


See Me Fall

by livingdeadgirl



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, BAMF Dís, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post BoFA, Thorin Is an Idiot, injured bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 09:29:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingdeadgirl/pseuds/livingdeadgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the battle, Bilbo suffered an injury that leaves him reliant on a walking stick and very angry with Thorin for his betrayal. <br/>No simple apology will make Bilbo forgive him, not this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	See Me Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Had to move it over from fanfiction.net the bastards removed it because the rating wasn't high enough. And I had some really lovely reviews so if anyone has read this over there, thanks for your reviews and favs they made me happy.

See Me Fall

 

*~*~*

 

“ _Please ju-just stop this Thorin. You’re starting to hurt me.”_

 

It was the flash of dirtied blonde curls off to his left that pulled him out of the trance that accursed gold had place him under. That same curse that had taken his grandfather so long ago. Blinking rapidly to remove the last layers of mist from his eyes he looked around himself trying to spot the little hobbit he had so wrongly thrown away and gasped.

This is what Bilbo had been trying to save him from, save them all from. War. All around him was the screams of dwarf, elf and men alike, echoing along with the screeching cries of the orcs and goblins surrounding them. He couldn’t see any of his company, the dwarves who had pledged their lives to him and his lost cause. They were out there somewhere, among this sea of broken bodies, perhaps they were among the dead already, lost and trampled beneath boots slicked with red and black blood. His nephews, his friends. This is what Bilbo had tried to prevent.

The little hobbits terrified dark blue eyes flashed in his mind and he pressed a grimy hand to his face. His hobbit was terrified of him, eyes that had looked at him with so much trust for so many months had looked upon him like he was a stranger, like the monster he had become.

Ducking quickly he swiped at the approaching goblins and took their heads within seconds, not caring that their blood spilled against his boots and armour, it didn’t matter much anyway he was already covered in filth, a little more wouldn’t make a difference. The area he was in was less populated than a little over the hill, the battle moving on without him.

Taking just a moment more to collect himself he looked briefly behind him at the mountain he had dreamed about for over a century, the home he had obsessed over at the cost of never settling his people anywhere permanently. Was it all worth it? The blue mountains where rich in metals, maybe not the veins of gold and pits of every jewel a dwarf could dream of, but his people could have flourished there, made a new home.

Erebor may once more be his, but at too high a cost. His nephews dead, his friends dead, his hobbit lost. The line of Durin was finished.

With that thought in his head, he raised his sword and took off running for the battle once more.

 

“ _You think this is pain?! Snivelling soft creature! You stole from me! I am king!”_

 

He had spotted the brothers Ri some time ago, along with Balin and Dwalin fighting back to back, little Ori always kept in sight of his older brothers and the tattooed warrior, Balin with his sword mowing any down who came too close to his own little brother. Ori didn’t seem to need the protection, his slingshot replaced with sharp looking axes from the weapons vault, his eyes void of all the meekness he possessed on their journey, now filled with bloodlust as his weapons killed enemy after enemy.

But soon he lost sight of them too, he didn’t know how long he had been in the fray since his madness vanished with the flash of golden curls that had no place here, but it felt like days.

The sun had nether risen or set since the battle started, always in the same state of murkiness, covered with dark storm clouds that never moved and never burst.

His sword was slick with his own sweat and blood now, the metal making him clumsy, barely able to block any attack that charged towards him.

Severing one head, he was swinging for another before it had the chance to hit the floor.

In the distance he heard a warg cry out, hunting for his meal and cutting down all that stood in his path. He knew who it hunted for. With Azog now dead, his oath to destroy the line of Durin was picked up by his son, Bolg, and the white warg itched for the blood of the one who killed its master.

Cutting down a tall orc brandishing a club almost as big as himself, he wiped the sprayed blood from his face and felt the grooves of the new scars upon his face, the deep one across his nose and cheek would become infected soon with all the muck flying around, though he doubted he’d have the chance for it to become a problem.

Then from up ahead came the cry once more, the warg with its new rider had found its meal. All enemies around him moved away to concentrate on other warriors, leaving their master to his prize.

Fresh red blood dripped down both beasts faces, Bolg’s deformed mouth grinning at Thorin hungrily and whatever passed as happy for the orc.

He knew this was it, if his nephews survive he will be proud for them to take their rightful place on the throne, they will do a much better job then he. Together the gold sickness will not take hold and his bloodlines curse will finally end.

He watched as if in a dream as Bolg jumped down from his warg and held his mace aloft, pieces of bone and strips of flesh embedded in its rusted spikes. Seeing where his eyesight was, the orc brought it closer to his face and pulled off what looked like muscle and began chewing, growling a laugh at the disgusted look that crossed Thorin’s face.

And then he began to run forward, his horrendous face almost gleeful at the prospect of completing his fathers oath. He would take his head and put it on a pike for all to see, taking Fíli and Kíli’s too and putting them with his own.

He would not allow that to happen to his boys, giving his own oath that if he died, this bastard was going with him.

Raising orcrist high he gave a matching grin, gleeful when Bolg’s own faltered when he saw the fear replaced.

But before their weapons met a flash of filthy blonde curls ran out of the crowd behind the orc leader and dived for the nightmarish creature before Thorin could scream for him to stop.

 

“ _Y-yes, but Th-Thorin please, if you’d let-let me expla-plain why-”_

 

Bolg didn’t expect the attack from behind from such a small creature, his steps faltering and his expression one of such confusion when he saw the glowing tip of a blade coming from his chest, his knees hitting the dirt with an echoing thump.

Pulling out the blade, a Bilbo Baggins so very different from the one he met in the Shire so very long ago placed his little letter opener to Bolg’s back once again and slid the metal in again and again, the sharpness of the blade making it look like it was cutting through warm butter instead of muscle, bone and armour.

When Bolg began to thrash, his eyes fearful and his blood leaking from his mouth, staining deathly white skin, Bilbo had already finished. Jumping away from the orc he had killed without hesitation, and taking a few steps backwards away from Thorin as well, just to be safe.

Thorin knew Bilbo shouldn’t trust him anymore, he could see the deep purple bruising on his vulnerable neck from here. His own hand had squeezed hard, wishing his hobbit’s death, wanting to feel bone crushing between his fingers and his dark blue eyes void of everything he held dear. Bilbo shouldn’t have saved him, he deserved his fate.

As if sensing where his thoughts where, Bilbo’s blood stained hand reached up to protect his damaged neck, his tiny fingers smearing oily black on his sun darkened skin.

He didn’t care how long it took, he would earn his forgiveness, whatever Bilbo deemed his punishment should be he would agree willingly. Anything to no longer see this cool detachment in eyes that should sparkle warmly.

Movement behind the hobbit caught his attention much too late. Barely managing to shout his name in warning, Bilbo was grabbed up in the white warg’s jaws and shook like a puppy’s toy, his frightened screams tearing at Thorin’s chest as he charged.

Slashing into the beast yet it didn’t loosen its jaws, Bilbo’s pained cry letting him know that it squeezed tighter, its vicious teeth burying into soft flesh, piercing organs and splintering bones.

Slashing into its chest and neck rapidly, he watched as Bilbo was thrown from its jaws to land heavily on the ground, his blood flowing freely into the dirt. Slicing into its neck he separated its head from its body before turning and running for the convulsing Bilbo.

 

“ _Leave me! Leave here Bilbo Baggins and never dare show your face to me again. For if I ever see your cowardly face again I will throw you from the highest tower and happily watch your body rot on the rocks below!”_

 

Slipping on his knees when he reached Bilbo, Thorin took him in quickly, trying to determine which injury he should try to fix first. His stomach bled sluggishly, as did his right leg that was thrown unnaturally to his side. His arm and chest was shredded badly, caught in the razor sharp squeezing teeth. A large cut on his forehead from where the beast had thrown him bled badly, his ruby blood dripping into his eye. Rubbing the blood from his face away quickly, Thorin ripped a large piece of his ribboned shirt and began to tie it at the top of his trembling thigh, hoping nothing vitally important had been nicked.

Terrified eyes darted around before landing on Thorin, his skin very pale and his entire body shivering.

Thorin had done this. Bilbo wasn’t born in battle like dwarves, men and elves, he was made for fields and peace. And instead he was here, numerous lives taken by his hand, blood of his enemy staining freckled skin, he himself bleeding out in a field of filth and death so very far away from the rolling hills of his home. He would die here if Thorin couldn’t stop the shaking, stop the bleeding. Die in the arms of his greatest betrayer.

All around them the battle grew fainter, no one noticing the fallen hobbit and his dwarrow protector, no one caring that such an innocent creature would die terrified and cold.

“T-this will hurt, mister Baggins. But if I do nothing, you will die here for certain. I will not allow that while I still live.”

Getting the tiniest of nods in agreement, Thorin reached forward and pulled Bilbo into his arms, holding him securely in his weakened arms and trying not to let the cries of pain from Bilbo break his resolve. Bilbo needed a real healers help.

Running towards Erebor Thorin ignored the calls from around him telling everyone that the eagles where here, the battle was won.

The cries Bilbo gave became quieter the further they ran, looking down Thorin picked up his pace when he noticed his eyes almost closed. The eyes that had never looked away from him still terrified but now resigned.

It took too long to even see the camp, but he would not stop, he would never stop, Bilbo had to be saved.

A small cold hand reached up to Thorin, using what little strength he had left to press his thumb along the large cut now marring his face, rubbing away his own blood that would be staining his face by now. Chancing a look down once more he almost sobbed at the soft smile on Bilbo’s face.

“ _My king_.” He managed to whisper before his eyes fell closed completely and Thorin once more picked up his pace, desperately running to the healers tent he could see in front of him.

 

~*~

 

No one had bothered him in a while. After running into the main healing tent with his hobbit he had banished so viciously, Oin had seen the desperation in his eyes and taken Bilbo without a word. A pair of arms grabbed him from behind and pulled him away to stop him getting in the way of the healers, he saw wiry red hair but didn’t know if it was Gloin or Nori leading him away to have his own injuries looked at.

That was hours ago now. The cut on his face had been thoroughly cleaned and stitched, he would most definitely have a scar. Other such cuts across his body that his armour hadn’t been able to prevent had also been cleaned and stitched where needed. He had found out the state of his company from a frantic Balin, his old friend sighing in relief seeing him whole and the madness gone. Miraculously they all survived, battered and bleeding at the edges but very much alive. Fíli and Kíli where held up in a tent nearby with a few missing fingers and scars, tormenting their elvish healers and eating whatever food was left near before any could stop them. Bofur had a shattered collarbone but had kept the smile on his face by his brother and cousins refusal to leave him alone. Dwalin stood vigil behind a once more meek Ori who had no more then a few cuts and bruises at the end of the battle but had managed to trip over a fallen warg on his way back to the camp and had broken his nose before any could stop his decent. Everyone else was running around trying to help where they could, not complaining in the least.

Sat on a rickety old crate outside the tent that held Bilbo, he went almost unnoticed by all that came out and in the opening. He had heard shouting for someone to get an elf but couldn’t find it in himself to care, if Thranduil himself could help his hobbit he would get on his knees to beg for his life to be saved.

Oin hadn’t stepped foot out of the tent once, his shouts echoed around the clearing where Thorin waited. He watched as a tall blonde elvish woman ran into the tent with a satchel of medicines and instruments. Every shout Oin and the healer elf gave made his frantic heart beat heavily, feeling like the thing was going to burst through his rib cage any second.

“ **Stop that bleeding quickly**!”

“ _Come on mister Baggins you cant give up now_!”

“ **For the love of Mahal stop that bleeding or he’ll loose his leg**!”

“ _Breath for me young one, just a little longer_!”

“ **He’s stopped breathing**!”

“ _I’m so very sorry master dwarf.”_

“ **Don’t you dare tell me he’s gone you little whelp**!”

Thorin blacked out, that’s really the only thing that could explain him suddenly being at the other side of the camp with Dwalin holding his arms to his side and his throat screamed raw.

For a few seconds he didn’t know what had happened, he was waiting for news on Bilbo and then suddenly he was here. ‘ _ **Don’t you dare tell me he’s gone you little whelp**_!’ Oin screamed inside his head. Ahh, yes that was why he was over here.

His Bilbo was dead.

The last words spoken to each other without fear and war raging around them was of such poison. A terrified little hobbit trying to reason with an insane dwarf over two heads bigger then him, who was only a few hours ago his dearest friend and intended. And even through all them vicious words he had spoken with the intention to hurt, Bilbo had saved him again. Once more jumping in front of a rushing blade even though he believed the monster he was defending at his back was as likely to maul him as quick as the monster in front of him.

He felt a sob escape him, he had promised Bilbo so much, sworn to protect his heart and then stamped it underneath his boot and laughed in his face when he saw his pain. He had tried to save them, everyone, not only the ones in his company. Hundreds had died, the company survived, and Bilbo gone.

He had killed him.

Shrugging out of Dwalin’s hold, he gave his friend a nod before walking back the way he came, splintered and broken wood telling him his way back. He had done a little more then scream and run then.

The tent was silent when he walked in. No healers remained in here, the other patients in here where all sleeping away the worst of their pain, and Bilbo was gone.

Looking to the largest bed that was partially hidden by a sheet, he walked towards it with silent feet.

It was surprisingly warm in Bilbo’s little corner, his still body covered with numerous furs and blankets. Bloodied material lay in a heap in the corner, what was left of his Shire clothes completely destroyed.

On the bed much too large for him lay Bilbo, looking like he was simply sleeping, his face again looking as peaceful as it once did. The blood and filth had been washed away from him in preparation for his burial, skin still pale with his blood loss but freckles standing out darkly, his hair cleared of dirt and back to its shining copper gold. He could no longer be buried in the Shire, Erebor would be his final resting place now. Thorin would plant flowers everyday around his tomb if he must, hoping Bilbo would be happy if he kept it looking beautiful even when surrounded by so much stone. He would have the funeral befitting Consort under the mountain, a title his in promise if not paper, though not married yet they had talked about it a lot during the ending of their journey.

Finally moving to kneel next to him he daren’t touch yet, resting his arms on the bed close but not enough. He wasn’t ready to hold his hand and feel nothing but cold.

“ _I am sorry_.” He managed to whisper, his throat raw and painful.

“I promised you everything then hurt you when you simply did what was asked of you. I no more deserve the throne then Azog did. You were… you are my One and I’ve killed you as readily as if I held a blade in my hand and cut out your beating heart.” Feeling a sob once more tear through his throat he bowed his head and closed his burning eyes.

“I never deserved you, and you never deserved this. You should be back home in your kindly west, with your armchair and books. It should be me on this bed, my ázyungel.”

His tears stung at his scarred face before dripping to the floor.

“I am so sorry my hobbit, my Bilbo. Please don’t leave me? Come back to me please? _Please?_ ” Words stuck in his throat, his chest felt as if it had been hollowed out and filled with ice.

Reaching forward to kiss his hand in farewell, knowing that his shame forbid him to kiss his lips until Bilbo said otherwise a command that would never come, he gripped his tiny, warm hand between his own dirty hands and leaned towards him.

Only to have it pulled from his grip before he made contact.

Blinking in surprise he looked up and connected with Bilbo’s tired, annoyed stare. Standing up quickly, Thorin took a few stumbling steps back before collapsing down onto his knees again. “ _Mahal, you’re alive_ …” He whispered, more tears falling down his face in large drops.

“Of course I’m alive, mister Oakenshield, simply sleeping off my pain tonics.” Croaked Bilbo, his eyebrow raised with an undertone of annoyed aunts everywhere. “Or where you hoping that warg had finished what you started?”

Shaking his head almost violently he once more dropped his gaze. “Please ázyungel, I-”

“Do not call me that anymore, o’king! You gave up any right to call me anything when you tried to break my neck.”

It was like a dagger to his heart. He was ecstatic Bilbo was alive and out of danger, but with the taunt of death about them, he had hoped not to receive Bilbo’s barbs until he was healed.

“As always, master hobbit you are right. I had believed myself immune to the gold madness that had cursed my bloodline for too long an age, now it is thankfully broken but I am shamed and lost without my One.”

Daring to look up, he was cheered a little that Bilbo’s anger had diminished slightly.

“I will leave you to your rest then. But know that I am sorry, I will never stop being sorry, and if you should need me, I am just a whisper away.”

Standing slowly he looked at his hobbit on the bed too large, so very alive and blinking owlishly in his direction, his pain tonic once more taking hold.

“Goodnight mister Baggins.”

Turning on his heel he strode through the sheet keeping him from view of the others in the tent, on much stronger legs then when he went in. Once outside he looked to the wooden crate he had made his perch for many hours and smiled.

Bilbo was alive.

Walking towards the tent that held his nephews, he would spend sometime with them to make sure they didn’t cause too much trouble, then return to his spot to keep guard over his hobbit.

After all, promising he was a whisper away only mattered if he could hear Bilbo whispering.

 

~*~

 

Bilbo woke up a little time later with an unknown female elf checking the wound on his leg. From what he could tell it was the deepest and most likely to cause the most problems. Reaching behind her, the elf grabbed a deep blue paste and began to smear it over the stitched cut, the unexpected coolness of it making Bilbo hiss and the elf look up with wide eyes.

“Oh, mister Baggins you’re awake! You scared me quite a bit before, I was so sure we’d lose you, you’d lost so much blood. But like Mithrandir told me, hobbits are hardy folk and refuse to give up without a fight. It seems your time in this world is not yet over.”

The almost freezing coldness of the paste became soothing and without meaning to he let out a satisfied moan which he tried to push back in with quick hands. The elf let out a little chuckle and began her work once more.

“I… I wanted to give up, I think I did at some point… It is pointless being hardy when you have nothing to live for.”

Looking up at him sharply with almost white silver eyes, the elf who now Bilbo could see was very young possibly not far out of her tween years, placed her numerous gadgets and knickknacks on the table next to him and continued to stare with now calculating eyes.

“If you truly did believe that master hobbit, we would not be sat here talking. Think what you want but never let thoughts like that enter your heart. You have something tying you here, some heart connected with your own? Your family?”

Bilbo chuckled with no humour, his eyes downcast and sad.

“My heart tried to strangle me. And my parents died a long time ago. I have no one.”

Startled by a unexpectedly warm hand on his cheek that could actually cover his whole head if wanted, he looked up into the healers kinder eyes.

“I know that to be a lie, mister Baggins. No family you say? Every hour you have had a different dwarf turn up asking after your health, begging to simply see you to know you are well. They are your family too. Sometimes the bonds between the family we choose are stronger then the family we are birthed into.”

They had all been here? He had secretly hoped he would not be forgotten or cast aside by them as Thorin had. The thought that they still cared for his well being brought a large smile to his face.

“And as for your heart, I am only guessing you are referring to the surly dwarf that sits outside your tent and refuses to move?”

“He’s doing what?!”

He could hear the squeak of rickety wood just beyond the tent opening and an almost shy throat clearing.

“ _That confounded dwarf can hear every word I have spoken_?” He whispered harshly between his clenched teeth. His healer never lost her sly smile just continued to stare.

“No mister Baggins-”

“For Yvanna’s sake call me Bilbo please? All this mister, mister business is giving me a headache.”

“As you wish, Bilbo. He cannot hear you until you shout. I made sure that your private business will remain private until you say otherwise. He sits on an empty apple crate, and after the first few hours of his refusal to leave the tent, he now has a small desk in front of him so he can do his duty as king and still be of service to you when wanted.”

Scoffing and turning away sharply he looked down at the shallow cuts on his arms and the large splinter that was still in his little finger.

“He truly is sorry for what his madness has caused you. I am not the most empathic of my people but I can feel his soul reaching for yours every second.”

Did he not have bruises on his neck still? With every breath it felt like his meaty, calloused hands where trying to kill him once more.

Thorin may be repentant. He may sit outside his tent like a lost puppy until the end of his days if he so wished. That ridicules dwarven king was not getting forgiven until Bilbo was ready. No matter how sad his icy blue eyes looked at him or his bottom lip pouted and trembled in his direction.

His healer took his moment of contemplation to finish her work, once more picking up her knickknacks and checking over his deeper wounds, smearing freezing paste where needed.

“If you’re lover was taken by madness and tried to snap your neck then threaten to throw you off a mountain, would you forgive him so easily?”

Taking a moment of silence as she packed away her things, her youthful face contemplative yet far away, she finally gave him a sweet little smile.

“I believe I would forgive him. Love is something precious, and dwarrows love eternally like the stone they live and work in. No matter how angry you are with him now, you do still love him and will continue to love him until the end of your days.”

Huffing into his furs he closed his eyes and tried to will away his irritation at the world. With his eyes firmly closed as they where he did not see the wicked smirk that crossed the healers face as she walked towards the exit.

“Of course I would also make the bastard suffer.”

His surprised snort of laughter made Bilbo’s eyes fling open and look at the elf almost out the tent flap with a large wondrous grin.

“Madness or no, he still needs to know you’re not some simpering fool that will forgive him quickly when he wrongs you.”

Then with only a nod in farewell the young healer was out of the tent leaving Bilbo to his thoughts with a scheming smile on his face.

 

~*~

 

Thorin was quite content on his little apple crate. A small desk had been placed in front of him so he could do his kingly duties and someone brought him food every few hours. At night when he had exhausted himself with papers and contracts and negotiations he would collapse forward onto his desk and sleep there, always waking up in the morning covered in various blankets. And although many had said they would bring him an actual comfy chair he always refused, he had grown fond of the rickety crate that refused to snap underneath his excessive weight.

No one bothered to look for him elsewhere now, if he wasn’t here he was with his nephews trying to keep them under some semblance of control. Even Bard and Thranduil had come to his apple crate to talk about something, being little or big. He didn’t care that the sickly looking tree shagger looked at him in patronizing amusement when he saw him at his little corner. Bilbo was here and he would not abandon him again, whether Bilbo knew it or not.

His hobbit never called to see him or talked loud enough for him to hear except for his one outburst a few weeks prior that made him nervous. But if Thorin was anything he was stubborn and he would not leave until Bilbo demanded he leave. The company where free to see him as they wished, muffled laughter the only sound Bilbo allowed him to hear.

He was jealous, more then anything he wished to see if Bilbo had regained his colour, his deathly white pallor haunted him at night, along with his rapidly cooling hand touching his face in what he believed was goodbye. His company where of little help, telling him he looked well but not how, only Oin had seen how close to death Bilbo was and the old healer didn’t have the time to tell Thorin how he was improving.

So he waited on his apple crate for a whisper and tried to imagine how his skin was warm and honeyed once more, his freckles would be harder to see when mixed with his sun kissed tan. He closed his eyes and tried to see his smile and hear his giggles, how he was when they stayed at Beorn’s, how he grinned wide when Thorin had stuttered out his wish to court him. But eventually he would be back to seeing him trying desperately to prise off his larger hand like a clamp around his soft vulnerable neck, hear his sobs for him to listen, hear his screams of pain from the jaws of that damned white warg.

Thorin would make it right once more. He had to.

 

~*~

 

Fíli and Kíli where on a mission, a very important mission from their uncle that would make Bilbo instantly forgive him and have him consort within the month.

Bilbo didn’t smile like he once did, even two as dim as them knew Bilbo was beyond upset and only Thorin could make him better again, that’s why this secret mission was so important.

Bounding through the corridors of the newly inhabited Erebor they almost skipped to Bilbo’s new room with wide grins and knocked loudly in unison, not thinking that the injured Bilbo could very well be resting.

The door opened to reveal the willowy elf healer that refused to leave Bilbo’s side while he was still too weak to move without sickness and fainting spells. She scowled at them as she did all of Durin’s line but uttered no words as she opened the door wider to let them in.

“He’s just woken from his nap, you have a little time before he has to take his draughts again. As always boys, do not be rambunctious, and do not upset him, or I’ll sneak into your rooms and cut your hair off with a dull knife.”

Gulping in fear they nodded quickly and walked swiftly past her, missing the devious smile she sent to their backs. Out of all the dwarrows, the boys where her favourite after little Ori, who would always bring enough food for her to join in with him and Bilbo when they rambled together about books and far off places dreamily for hours. But she held a special place inside for the sons of Dis, reminding her of a pair of over excited puppies that have spied their first squirrel.

Walking through Bilbo’s bedroom door with less bounce then before, they beamed when they saw the hobbit slouched up in bed with much more colour in his cheeks then last they saw him. Giving them a smile in return, much softer then he would have done before they reached the mountain, he tried to sit up straighter in his bed but stopped when he pulled the stitching in his leg and stomach.

“Good afternoon boys. What can I do for you today?”

“We’re here on a very special mission, Bilbo.”

Chuckling softly and letting his eyes twinkle at them both as he once did freely, he wiggled further down into his pillows and nodded at them to impart what the mission entails. His eyes subtly moving to the small velvet wrapped parcel Kíli held securely in his damaged hand.

“It is a very, very important mission given to us by uncle.” Whispered Kíli almost reverently, possibly glad that he and his brother where finally seen as adults in their uncles eyes, and so everyone else’s too.

“Well don’t leave me in suspense.” Bilbo said with a giggle.

Moving forward as one they bent at the knee by Bilbo’s bedside and placed the small parcel on his lap, before standing up ungracefully and fidgeted, awaiting praise most probably.

“Not really a mission is it boys? More like… a delivery.”

“But a really important delivery. A delivery no other mere mortal could accomplish.” Said Fíli puffing up his chest and looking all together too pleased with himself.

Chuckling to himself Bilbo reached for the parcel, not surprised when the velvet easily moved away from the treasure as he picked it up. He was surprised what he held in his hand though, Thorin’s gift to him making all air leave his lungs and the blood drain from his face.

The arkenstone.

“Mahál you must forgive uncle now!” Squealed Kíli as he bounced from one side of his brother to the other.

“You simply must forgive him, mister Boggins. To give you the arkenstone… that means he truly does love you, do you understand?” Said Fíli all together more calm then the still jumping Kíli but his excitement plain to see on his grinning face and twitching feet.

But all Bilbo could see was that accursed stone resting in his hand like it hadn’t been the main factor for his life’s ruin. That glittering bauble that Thorin, his intended, his heart, had chosen over him. Was he being purposely cruel to parade this in front of him, giving it as a simple trinket to him, did he truly see him as less then that?

Moving it quickly to his bedside table so he wasn’t tempted to throw it across the room and risk upsetting the boys, he gave them a watery smile and tried to stop his hands shaking.

“I… I’m feeling a little tired boys, why don’t you come by later on? After I’ve had something to eat and a little more of my tonics.”

Their broad grins dimmed slightly but didn’t disappear.

“Oh yes of course.” Said Fíli.

“What should we tell uncle?” Asked Kíli with another excited wiggle.

Feeling a sob scratch at the back of his throat he tried to shake it away. “You tell him if he asks, I received his message loud and clear.”

Grins at full once more they left the rooms with a bounce, happy to relay the message to Thorin, calling out a farewell before the doors shut behind them.

They missed Bilbo’s hiccupped sob and Nestariél quick steps as she rushed to aid him. Also Bilbo gripping the stone tight in his fists and throwing it as hard as he could at the stone walls, his screams echoing around his spacious rooms and ringing in Nestariél and Bilbo’s heads for a long time afterwards.

If it was made of weaker stuff Bilbo wished it would smash into dust and leave him in peace.

 

~*~

 

To say Thorin was happy his little sister had finally returned home would be an understatement. She had been banished from Erebor just as he but had flourished where he had faltered. It had been two months since the battle had raged around his reclaimed home and finally their people that wished to return to the lonely mountain where spotted on the horizon with her leading.

Dis was well loved with everyone, preferring to use kindness and patience where he would simply reach for his sword and be done with it. She was always the smartest of the three children Thrain sired and the second strongest underneath Thorin, not to say that she didn’t use her strength when need called for it, she was after all a dwarf and even showing a few moments of restraint to try to think rationally was seen as a talent not often seen. Frerin would be the second smartest but had made up for his dimmer wit and reduced strength with disarming smiles and the ability to make friends everywhere, even rumoured to have an orc drinking partner in the shadier parts of the south, of course the orc that sliced him from navel to throat didn’t know he was killing a sometimes orc friend, the outcome of their skirmish would have likely been the same. Thorin had no patience, he was more the type of dwarrow to storm in head first, attack the wrong person then be left fighting off double the amount of enemies he started with at the beginning of the night. Dis affectionately called him her zár gimlún, roughly translated as ‘dim star’, Thorin was never in the best of moods when she called him her pet name.

The company, minus Bilbo who was still bedridden and refusing to see Thorin, watched the coming dwarrows with grins and cries of excitement, Fíli and Kíli bouncing around like newly released puppies at the thought of seeing their mother they hadn’t seen in over two years. It was in that moment that Thorin knew that he had finally completed his quests. His sister would be home. She would be a princess covered in silks and jewels once more, her armour and weapons would be the envy of all who looked upon them. The Durin’s would no longer have to shiver in the cold of their little home that wasn’t big enough for four, they wouldn’t have to go days without food, the boys whimpering as they slept from their stomachs rolling and protesting at not being full again. They where all alive, they where once more at their rightful station and would make sure none of their people had to go through the horror of the last century and a half.

Thorin didn’t have it in him to calm the boys as they climbed over each other to get the best view of their approaching mother.

It took many hours for them to reach the mountain, the sun was already beginning to set when the first caravan entered the gate. The struggle to get down to greet them was exhausting for the company as they all tried to squeeze through doors and tunnels built for three dwarrows at most now wedged with thirteen of them pushing, hitting and screaming trying to be the first out.

Surprisingly it was Bombour who made it out first, using his girth to his advantage and bowling into them all at an impressive speed and knocking them over like skittles. Thorin watched with a chuckle as his little legs ran faster then he thought possible towards the wagon holding the most dwarflings and a beautiful pale blonde dwarrowdam with rotund cheeks, coal black eyes and an impressive mattock on her back. Ketia had always been known as a beauty among her people, and all those who tried to court her had failed simply because she had loved Bombour since she had learned to walk and the two had followed each other around like love sick puppies for nearly seventy years before she dared to make the first move. Their many, many children where proof of their devotion to each other.

He took a second to look around at his company as they ran to their families and friends they had believed at the beginning they would never see again. And then finally he walked towards where his nephews had bowled over their mother and where wailing like snot nosed children in her arms. Her deep voice was music to his ears, she was finally here. They where together again.

“Get off her you two! She’s travelled too far for you to suffocate her within the first hour.” Obediently they scurried off her before dragging her up off the floor, their hands always touching her arms or shoulders to ensure themselves she was really there.

“My boys don’t look so shiny and new anymore zár gimlún. I think we’re going to have to have a little talk.”

Cold blue eyes locked with his own and he let out an involuntary gulp. None could scare him quiet like his baby sister, with the exception of Bilbo now of course. The little Halfling had taken to sneaking around quite efficiently even with the wooden cane assisting him with his walking, and whenever Thorin dared to talk to him he would be sporting a new bruise from that damned stick and slink away like a beaten dog. Bilbo had gone from angry to heartbroken to unquenchable rage in his regards to Thorin these last two months. The arkenstone had only seemed to make matters that much worse.

“They are alive and have all their limbs-”

Taking hold of her youngest sons left hand and holding it up for him to inspect he let out another gulp. Kíli had lost his little finger, along with his ring finger from the first knuckle and his middle from the second. He could still shoot his arrows with pinpoint accuracy so it wasn’t as if it was a huge hindrance to the boy.

“-most limbs intact. It could have gotten a lot worse.”

Moving away from her sons, Dis took the few steps towards him with stomped feet and stared into his eyes with malice. Thorin could never call Dis beautiful or ugly without speaking for himself as well. The two had been identical since they both reached their third decades. As children they had used it to their advantage to get out of trouble, no one really knowing who had stolen that last pie from the kitchen so they got off without punishments, the both of them and Frerin laughing into the night at their cleverness. As they got older it became convenient when he needed to be at two places at once. For a time Víli, Fíli and Kíli’s father, had believed himself courting Thorin and had had a few panic attacks with the thought that he would have to become his consort, when he finally realised it was actually Dis his cries of joy where heard all around the blue mountains.

But looking at her now Thorin knew they weren’t identical in the slightest, there wasn’t a chance he could pull of that much fury and still look sweet.

“It could have gotten worse? So the mutilation of my sons, your madness, countless deaths and the almost loss of your One, could have ended worse?”

Throwing annoyed looks at his nephews who simply grinned, no longer intimidated by him when their mother was making him fidget and sweat, he gave them an annoyed growl before turning back to Dis.

“I’m guessing your sons told you about mister Baggins? I had hoped to have the situation rectified by your return but it seems hobbit stubbornness is worse then a dwarrows.”

“This isn’t about stubbornness zár gimlún, he placed his trust in you and you tried to snap his little Halfling neck. Have you done anything to truly apologise or have you been sending him inappropriate gifts and skulking in the shadows as always?”

His silence was all she needed. Her scheming smirk made his back tingle, she was going to do something and he was going to have nightmares about it for the rest of his days.

“Tonight I wish to spend with my family and friends, I do so hope that big dumb chunk of muscle has made headway with sweet little Ori, I have money riding on them officially courting by the end of the year. And then tomorrow I will go see your mister Boggins.”

She chuckled when she noticed all the blood drain away from his face. Turning away and holding her arms open for her boys to burrow once more they made a move to their quarters, Fíli and Kíli’s excited chatter about their journey echoing away and leaving Thorin in his state of panic.

He had never really thought of the implications of Dis and Bilbo meeting. Together they could very easily take over his throne and have him working in the kitchens as an errand boy and everyone would be much happier about it.

Hopefully the two would simply tolerate each other.

…

Thorin knew he was asking far too much. Dis and Bilbo didn’t just tolerate each other. They adored each other.

 

~*~

 

Bilbo awoke from his midmorning nap much like he did every rest since the battle, screaming and clutching at his throat trying in vain to prise away large callused hands that where no longer there. The past month had been worse, having been moved from the tent to his own rooms within Erebor the darkness and loneliness at night clawed inside him, made him weak and had him begging for Thorin to protect him before he realised Thorin was the one he ran from in his nightmares.

Only today there was someone watching him from the bottom of his bed, with another cry he grabbed the closest thing to him and threw it with all of his might. If the object was anything but his spare pillow he knew he would have caused some serious damage, but unfortunately the plump silken pillow simply hit Thorin in the face and caused nothing more then a chuckle.

“Calm mister Boggins, I will do you no harm.” He spoke with a much kinder voice then he was used to, making Bilbo itch with how he found it appealing. Every other time he had tried to talk to him he had addressed him with a barked _Halfling_ then looked upset when Bilbo became angry and hit him with his wooden cane when he came too close.

“You said you would not come to me until I allowed it, o’king.” Snapped Bilbo, embarrassed that he didn’t think to throw the cane that was only a little way away and would have made a much better weapon.

“And my brother has kept his promise, master hobbit. Excuse me for confusing you so, even though I do not remember a time before we where identical, I sometimes forget others would not know of the similarities. I am Fíli and Kíli’s amad, and sometimes unfortunately I am Thorin’s namadith. Dis at your service, mister Boggins.”

She gave him a low bow then looked up at him with a wide grin that looked foreign on a face so similar to Thorin’s.

Now that he knew this was Dis he could see the differences. Her body was still thick and tall like Thorin’s but there was extra curves at her waist and chest most likely gained from birthing two dwarfling so close together that mothers never really lose. She wore a simple light blue tunic, breeches and thick boots like all dwarrows, letting him study the differences without staring too much and offending her. She possessed the same elegant nose and thin lips, her beard was shorn in the same style as her brothers, in mourning for her people and family. Her hair had more braids in and less white strands. And her ears held more jewellery and gold then Thorin’s. She was just as beautiful as her brother with just as much power in her muscles. But her eyes looked at him in kindness, and maybe a little curiosity. Her smile reminded him of Fíli and Kíli’s when they where planning to get into mischief, her eyes the same shade as Thorin’s but looking like Fíli’s innocent blue more then the icy coolness of her brothers.

“Bilbo Baggins at yours, your highness.” He said, struggling to stand from the bed and clutching his cane tightly, giving her as deep a bow as he was able.

“None of this _highness_ if you please. The way my boys speak of you, I feel as if we are already family. You must call me Dis, I insist.”

He gave her a sweet smile and she could see why her brother had fallen in love so hard and quick with him, he always did have a soft spot for the adorable, fiery creatures.

“Then I also insist you call me Bilbo. And I am sorry I threw a pillow at you, it is remarkable how much you and Thorin look alike.”

Her bark of laugher made him laugh along with her, the infectious noise having been passed down to her sons and he had spent too many months listening to them to not wish to laugh when he heard it.

“My darling big brother deserves a lot more then a pillow to the face.”

“The second it left my grip I wished I had grabbed my cane instead.”

Walking towards him with her toothy grin she placed her arm around his shoulder and began to lead him to the table set up outside of his sleeping quarters, insisting he rested and let her make him something to drink.

“I have been informed that my brother is now terrified of upsetting you further in fear of your cane. For such a little thing you have an abundance of spirit, I can see why the company and especially my brother are all fawning over themselves to please you. I have never seen Thorin stutter since he was a dwarfling as he did last night when speaking of you.”

The thought of a small Thorin with unruly hair, big innocent blue eyes and a stutter made something in Bilbo’s chest crack. Adorable was not really a word associated with Thorin.

“Now, Bilbo,” Said Dis once she sat across from him with the tea she had made them steaming in its pot in the centre of the table. “I know my brother is a brute, and an idiot. I had hoped that the Durin curse wouldn’t pass on to him, I had seen how it had tormented him for many years, the fear that he would turn as mad as our grandfather and father. You must know he wasn’t in his right mind that day? I have heard accounts from some of your company and they all agree he would never have hurt you in such a way if his mind was his own.”

Bilbo huffed and looked to the patterned table cloth. He had heard it for months now how he should forgive him, only his young elf healer Nestariél had given him silent support for not forgiving Thorin so easily. Standing by his side and refusing to let him come near if that was not Bilbo’s wish, king or not he was her patient and her orders outranked the kings.

Dis would of course be on her brothers side.

“Why are you so sad, Bilbo?” She whispered, moving forward and touching his lax hand resting on the table. When he finally gathered his courage enough to look up into the face so much like the one who had wronged him, knowing tears where gathered in his eyes like some silly fauntling, he was confronted with sympathy and sadness in her eyes.

“Ahhh, I see. Bilbo, you must understand I love my brother. After Azanulbizar I had lost my father, grandfather and my ázyungel Víli, I was left with a dwarfling only just able to form sentences and another in my belly. If not for Thorin I would have been claimed by the madness of my line, he took Fíli and Kíli on as his own, worked double to make sure we had enough food to survive, he wouldn’t stop until sickness forced him to his knees. When my brother loves, he loves with everything he has. He loves you completely, you are his One, his match. I know you love him still, if you did not, what he did to you wouldn’t tear at your heart everyday, you would be able to sleep soundly every night and be long gone back to your Shire by now.”

More tears fell without his say so, making him want to run away and hide in a corner until he had calmed down and was able to face the world without wanting to sob and scream or until he felt safe again, which ever came first.

Strong arms pulled him to her tightly, holding him close like his mother used to and letting him cry silently into her shoulder. She smelt of earth and the smoke from a forge, her arms much stronger then his own mothers but making him feel so small once again, scared about the monsters outside his window and being calmed from his hysterics with Belladonna’s lullaby in his ears.

“I trusted him… Why doesn’t anyone understand? I trusted him completely and he threw me away like I was nothing to him. Like I was a cheap trinket he had bought on his travels he had no use for any more.” He sobbed, clinging to her tunic in tight fists and getting tears all over the expensive material most likely staining them beyond repair.

“Everyday someone tells me to forgive him, that he wasn’t himself, that I should love him again. I see him sat outside my room on that stupid crate with eyes so full of hope every time I look at him and it breaks my heart! I love him and I will always love him, but he tried to kill me! He is so much stronger then me, he could end my life with no effort, and he squeezed my neck so hard I thought I only had seconds left to live, because he wanted to feel bone break. He looked at me with so much hatred and rage, I took that thrice damned stone to save his life, to save the lives of the company, but he saw it as betrayal, as thievery.”

Pulling himself away from her he stood up and limped away towards the table by his bedside and grabbed the stone she had only just noticed was in the room.

“And then he gives it to me, why would I want this? I am a hobbit, we care nothing for wealth. I do not want this cursed stone! I want it as far away as possible from me because it stole everything from me. Do you understand? How can I forgive him when he parades what stole him from me like some grand gift I should treasure?”

Throwing it back onto the table he seemed to almost deflate onto his bed, hunching his back towards her. She could see his shoulders shake with his silent sobs and it broke her heart.

“Bilbo, I understand, I really do. Please don’t cry?” Moving quickly she knelt in front of him and touched his knee softly, reaching up with her free hand to wipe away fallen tears.

“When I was a child I saw how gold sickness can take away someone you love dearly. How it changes someone into a mindless beast who cares for nothing but wealth. I am not asking you to forgive him, you know you will eventually be that tomorrow or a decade from now, I do not wish to push you then have you miserable. You need time to heal yourself. I just wish for you to know I am here. Thorin is my brother, I love him, he has sacrificed a lot throughout his life, but he deserves punishment. You are his One, his most precious gift from mahál, and though he wasn’t in his right mind he has treated you with dishonour and does not warrant an easy forgiveness. Please Bilbo, do not cry.”

Looking down at her with red rimmed eyes she smiled at him softly when she saw his bottom lip shaking. He was so young, younger then her boys, but by his peoples standards he was well past maturity, yet she couldn’t help but look at him as if he was a youth to be protected from the horrors of the world. Even if that horror was her idiot big brother.

“You don’t think I should forgive him easy ether? But… he’s your brother, shouldn’t you be taking his side?” He mumbled, trying to stop his lip wobbling and pull himself back in order.

“By mahál no. Thorin is an idiot, the quicker people learn this the easier everyone’s lives will be. I promise you Bilbo, I will always be here for you whenever he is being pigheaded, so I believe we will become very close indeed over the years.”

Sniggering loudly he gave her a genuine smile once again and managed to stop his tears.

“Oh dear look at me blubbering like a heartsick fauntling, what you must think of me. Come, come I insist I make you something to eat, it is nearly time for second breakfast and you dwarrows are an odd bunch not even knowing what a second breakfasts is, Fíli and Kíli nearly fainted when I told them of the four meals they where missing out on everyday. Do you like scones? Silly question of course you do!”

He seemed to be off in his own little world now, moving about quickly with hardly a thought for his cane or if Dis was listening to his mumbles about what he should cook for them both.

Dis already adored the little hobbit, he would be good for Thorin and be a kind and clever consort for Erebor. Of course she would have to have words with her moronic brother next she saw him. When they had talked last night he had implied that Bilbo was simply angry with him, he didn’t understand how much he had truly broken him. He was hanging on by a thread, the one thing he needed most was what he feared too much to stand being near.

She would fix this, even if she had to beat Thorin black and blue and have him get on his knees to beg forgiveness. The idiot should have done that on day one, instead of hiding outside on that rickety old apple crate he insisted on lugging about. If he refused to do what she demanded to win Bilbo’s forgiveness she was going to break that useless box of wood over his head and burn it in front of him.

This would never have happened if she was the bloody firstborn.

 

~*~

 

Throwing his pen on his desk with a clatter, Thorin let out a low grumble at the splotches of ink that had leaked onto the paperwork he had been reading, re-reading, proofing, amending, re-reading again, before signing and moving on to the next bloody document to start over again. He had been doing this since the second he sat down this morning, and would most probably carry on until his back forced him to move to his bed, or he simply gave up and slept on the floor by his desk again.

A little break wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Tilting his crate back until he was happily wedged against the wall with his feet pressed firmly against the bottom of his desk, he leaned his head back and had drifted off for a quick nap in no time.

He really wasn’t expecting his apple create to be kicked out from under him and his behind to collide heavily on the stone floor underneath. Growling as he got to his feet he saw furious ice blue eyes before a fist connected with his nose and hot blood exploded down his face to mat into his beard.

“You idiot! You complete and utter moron!” Shouted Dis as she grabbed the front of his tunic to pull him close to her once more so she could snarl in his face.

 _How long has she been taller then me?_ He wondered dizzily before her fist connected with his cheek with enough force to smack him back to the wall, his head colliding with the stone wall and leaving him no option but to slide down to sit on the floor once more.

“How could you do that to him?! Have you got any idea how much you’ve hurt that poor creature? He is hanging by a thread in them cold rooms you placed him in, and your brilliant idea to make him forgive you is to give him that poisonous stone!”

Head muddled, Thorin could only stare up at his sister in confusion and fear. Growling at him when he just continued to stare at her like a befuddled kitten she kicked him hard in his thigh to get him to pay attention.

“He- he does not like the arkenstone?” He managed to ask with only a slight stutter when confronted with her anger. She gave a snort of disbelief before kicking him a little harder. Thorin knew from experience she was moments away from sitting on him to pin him so she could pull his hair and twist his ears. He wished he could say it was only an act she used to pull when they where children, but she had last done it the night before he left on the quest, with a warning to bring back her sons still shiny and new, or she’d knot his braids so bad he’d have to cut them out.

“Of course he doesn’t like that fucking stone you idiot! That act above all others could very well have lost him to you forever. Do you even understand how hobbits work at all, or do you just believe him to be a beardless dwarf?”

“Of course I know he’s not a dwarf, and watch your tone, namadith. I am still king under this mountain.” He said sternly and quickly before his damn stutter could ruin what little effect a raised voice would have on her.

Standing up straight she looked around them mockingly, looking too much like Thranduil for Thorin to be comfortable with, before she looked back at him with a smirk. “Oh majestic king it seems all of your royal subjects and guards have conveniently scampered away, leaving just me and you in this deserted tunnel. You may be king under the mountain brother, but I could easily beat you to death with that bloody crate and take your place upon the throne with no one the wiser.”

Grumbling when she landed another kick to his thigh he stood up quickly, trying to stand tall but aghast when he saw he was indeed an inch or two shorter then her and unless he wanted to stand on his tiptoes he could not use his height as an intimidation technique with her.

“You’ve truly spoken with Bilbo?” He asked instead of pointing out the assassination threat to the crowned king and risking her bludgeoning him with his makeshift stool.

“Yes. Thorin what have you done to him?” She whispered making his blood run cold, Dis never sounded that upset unless something was truly wrong.

“I-I… I have tried to make amends-”

“ -You have tried to make your amends as if he was a wronged member of your court. Do you not understand he is your One? That you’ve shattered his heart? It is as if he grieves for you in that cold room, he has lost the only creature he has dared to love since his mother faded.”

A possessive kind of jealousy gnawed in his stomach at the mention of Belladonna. Bilbo had only shared his most painful memory with Thorin near the ending of their journey. A quiet night in Laketown when his fever had all but cleared and they had a sacred moment alone together. To learn that Bilbo had shared his deepest pain with his little sister whom he had barely known a few hours was hard for his heart to take without his words sounding harsh and bitter.

“You spoke quiet intently together I see.”

Her fist connecting hard with his shoulder quickly dispensed the sour feeling rolling around his stomach and cleared his head.

“This is no time for jealousy, Thorin! Everyday that ticks by you lose him that little bit more. I do not wish for you to realise it too late. He loves you deeply, dear mahál do you truly believe he would have waited around this long if he didn’t? You need to make this right, kházash.”

Thorin knew he was losing Bilbo, if he wasn’t already lost to him. When he had first made his apology Bilbo had been too angry to listen, now he hobbled around with a broken look in his eyes before he managed to mask it with annoyance when Thorin managed to catch his eye line.

“But the arkenstone?”

“Is nothing but poison. He saw it as you tormenting him with the life it had stolen from him.”

“I wished to show him how _he_ mattered more to me then _it_.”

“And he saw it as you throwing away what you had thrown him away for, telling him he was trinket to keep you entertained for a little while. You insulted and hurt him.”

Frustrated with his own stupidity, and Bilbo’s over active intelligence he groaned in annoyance and wished to confront Bilbo for such a silly theory. “Why did he look so deeply into it? It was not meant as such. Surely he knows I am not as clever as to give a gift with a double meaning?”

Snorting loudly, Dis shook her head while patting him on the shoulder.

“He is not a dwarf, Thorin. He is born from a crafty people and is seen as devious amongst them. It would not have occurred to him that you are simply too stupid to use your wit to be cruel.”

Sighing, he kicked his crate so he could sit once more and placed his head in his hands, feeling the blood from his busted nose clumping and drying his beard. “What am I going to do? I cannot lose him.”

Crouching next to him with her cunning grin plastered across her face she placed her hand upon his forearm and squeezed hard enough for him to feel under his vambrace.

“You have me now, zár gimlún. Together we will make him smile as he once did, and not fear to love you. This I promise you, my king.”

Smiling at her, he leaned forward to tap his forehead to hers in relief. For when Dis made a promise, you best believe she would deliver. He would have his Bilbo in his arms once more.

 

~*~

 

“There’s something out here for you, Bilbo. Would you like me to bring it inside for you?” Called Nestariél as she went about her daily inspections of his rooms, restocking his tonics and draughts while he bathed, happy that he had enough strength to do most tasks without aid now.

His dearest elf friend was no longer needed by him, she was a skilled healer and there was still so many that needed help. But she made sure to visit for at least an hour everyday, the two having lost the professional healer/patient mentality many weeks ago and now happily calling each other friends.

“Yes thank you, my dear. I wont be much longer, I’m getting much to old to rush about in the bath, I might break a hip.” He teased, smiling softly when her bell like giggle floated through the locked door.

“Nonsense, you are but a pup in my eyes. I’ll have none of this _old_ claptrap if you please.”

Chuckling quietly to himself he marvelled at the innocence of youth. Nestariél was hundreds of years older then him but still a teen in her peoples eyes. He remembers saying something similar to his great aunt when he was just a faunt, not understanding that just because outside you looked young, inside you could be very old, and _very_ tired.

“If you insist my friend, I am but a spring chicken. Now be off with you, I know you have more important things to be doing then tending to such a sprightly creature such as myself.”

Her pacing footsteps stopped outside his door, letting him know just how busy she truly was without her saying. “Are you sure you do not require assistance getting out the tub? I know how slippery they can become. There is no need for modesty between us, my friend. As your healer I have seen every nook and cranny you hav-”

“-NO! Ehm, no thank you Nestariél. I can manage just fine.”

“…Bilbo. I can hear your blush. You have nothing to be ashamed of, I have studied every form that walks our lands and I know you to possess a very appealing physique for your species-”

“-I really think your other patients need you more then me, my dear.”

“You have a very cute backside.” She nearly whispered through the door. If he couldn’t hear the smile in her voice he would have probably fainted from all his blood rushing to his face and neck. The old Bilbo would have most likely squeaked and tried his hardest to hide from such indecent remarks. But maybe spending a year with a pack of dirty dwarrows, listening to a number of mucky drinking songs, and later on in the journey being groped and praised for his plump rear by a dwarf king who Bilbo believed was part octopus, had changed him into a not so respectable hobbit after all. His reaction now was to laugh and throw a bar of soap at the door.

“Temper-temper master hobbit. If you are to treat a lady such as myself in such a way then I will leave you to your bath as demanded so rudely.” Said Nestariél snootily with the best impression of Thranduil she could manage, which was pretty good actually.

“Farewell, my dear.” Bilbo replied, staring at the soap he actually still needed to use lying dejected on the floor, Nestariél’s retreating footsteps the only noise from outside the door.

“I will be here at noon tomorrow, Bilbo. Make sure you’re attired correctly this time please? I do not know if I could withstand knowing only a slab of wood separated me from seeing your delectable rump once more.”

Snorting ungainly, loud enough for her to hear he wished for another bar of soap to chase her away once more. “Be off with you!” He bellowed, her tinkling laugh echoed faintly before his chamber door was clicked closed and he was left on his own once more.

Sitting in his cooling bath he stared down at his body Nestariél had so fondly teased him about. To the elves and men who valued strength and slender frames as beautiful, he was seen as small and stocky, a tiny thing mistook for a human child more often then not. To the dwarrows who see muscles and roughness as attractive, he was flabby and weak, a strange little creature to a small race, who had no beard, no triumphs, no value.

And now even to his own people he was an oddity. A hobbit wasn’t seen as respectable if they didn’t have at least some chub along their stomach, looking down with disgust he let out a soft whimper as his finger traced ribs visible next to his concaved stomach. Bilbo was something no one would want now. Too thin for a hobbit, too fat for a dwarf.

Many months ago he used to adore Thorin’s wandering hands. The king had seemed fascinated by the curves and soft parts of him that no dwarf possessed, one hand always reaching out for him almost as if he was checking his softness against himself. For many weeks it seemed as if Bilbo could not walk a few steps without meaty fingers pinching his fleshy rear, giving off yelps that made Thorin give him his most lecherous grin.

Thorin had adored his softness. He had whispered to him in the dead of night how he wanted to caress every inch of him and commit the softness to memory. Their bedrolls pressed together and Thorin’s arm wrapped possessively over his hip, his face nuzzling into Bilbo’s copper curls as his warm breath blowing over his neck and ears, each exhale making Bilbo shiver in his arms, wishing Thorin was just that little bit closer.

All of that was lost to him now.

The time in the mountain with Thorin getting sicker had made him worry, he didn’t even know he was cutting his meals until Bifur forced a large bowl of stew in his hands and sat scowling at him until it was all finished. Then came the battle, his injuries, his bloodless and sickness, fighting to stay alive and to open his eyes in the mornings with his broken heart cutting him with every breath, and it had taken what little appetite he had left.

And now here he sat. In a rapidly cooling bath looking down at a body he no longer recognised, covered in scars that would never fade and a limp that would never go. He didn’t even realise he was crying until his eyes began to sting and his throat felt raw from sobs he refused to let out.

But after a few minutes of wallowing in his misery, he managed to get out of the tub with only a little trouble and one very wobbly leg making things a little more difficult then it used to be. Making it to his robe slung on the counter by the mountain of various soaps his friends had given him in hopes to make him more comfortable in a mountain that would hopefully one day be his home, he put it on quickly to ward off the chill that always invaded his rooms no matter how well the fire was stocked and grabbed for his trusty cane.

He couldn’t let his misery keep him cooped up like an injured animal. He was a Baggins and a Took, and if he learned anything from his beloved mother, it was keep going until your heart stops beating no matter what. Life just might get better if you kept taking that next step no matter how painful. Belladonna unfortunately knew there was nothing for her in this world when Bungo had breathed his last, but she had been stubborn and made sure she had seen her boy grown into his maturity.

So gripping his cane tightly he held his head high and hobbled with as much dignity he could muster from the sanctuary of his bathroom into his living quarters to dress and prepare for his day.

In his hast he almost looked past the box laying innocently on his dining table. Nestariél had mentioned a package but in his misery he had forgotten all about it. Walking towards it with his Tookish curiosity burning, he touched it almost reverently and felt a small smile pass his lips.

It wasn’t a very big box, but then again couldn’t be considered small ether. It was made of a simple wood and carved with what seemed to be the rolling hills and trees of the Shire. It was very beautiful and he was almost tempted to leave it unopened, for surely whatever it protected inside couldn’t be as grand as the simple box he adored so quickly.

But his itchy thieving fingers needed to know what was inside, and so with a delicate touch he held the lid and pulled it open.

His first guess that whatever lay inside would be a disappointment was correct, but he was also very glad he had opened it for if left a mystery his gift would have ruined the wrapping in days.

Inside was a dozen or more scones, misshapen and burnt around the edges. But his bakers eyes could see how much care had been given when they where made. What fruit he could see was of the finest Erebor could offer, and each scone had been pressed to shape with the up most care, even if they where quiet oddly fashioned in many places.

Staring at his odd gift with a befuddled grin on his face that made his cheeks ache, he noticed the note attached to the inside of the lid and happily snatched it up, wishing to know who had given him such a thoughtful gift. All hobbits loved food, and food that had been made with love and care was the grandest gift one could receive.

It wasn’t a long note, only a few words scrawled out in handwriting that was both beautiful and clumsy, and the penmanship instantly recognisable to him.

 

_Ázyungel, know that I will love you until the stars burn away to the darkness._

_Yours eternally, Thorin._

 

Feeling his heart flutter in his chest at the short note that was Thorin’s first words of love to him in months, he smiled and wiped away the tears from his cheeks. Hope burned strong and painful in his chest before he could stamp it out. Thorin would not be forgiven as easily from a few scones. But at least he wasn’t parading jewels for him to fawn over like some silly tween.

Putting the lid back on his treasure as delicately as he was able, he caressed the carvings on the box a moment before walking to his sleeping quarter with more spring in his hobbled step.

He would wear blue today, Thorin always said he looked nice in the colour. Not that he was dressing to impress the king or any such nonsense. He simply needed to go out and exorcise his leg with a walk around the markets, maybe go see little Ori and ask if he had found that new book he was talking about. And if Dwalin was with Ori, well the warrior dwarrow was his friend too and he could ask how the new arrivals to Erebor where settling in… And if Thorin just so happened to be with his closest friend as he usually is at this time of day, perhaps he would give him a smile in thanks for his thoughtful present.

Nothing more.

He had to stop the hope from rising too strongly in his chest, the feel of Thorin’s hand around his neck and his enraged eyes staring into his own with such blind hatred still haunted his dreams, and a few pastries wouldn’t instantly fix that.

But it was a start at least.

 

~*~

 

“Must you? These documents are very fragile, mister Dwalin.” Squeaked Ori as Dwalin once more tried to steal a kiss without a care for the damage to the papers the youngest Ri brother was in charge of today.

Pushing away the incessant warrior that refused to be budged no matter how many times Ori chased him away with whatever happened to be in his hands, the little scribe finally relented to his One’s attentions and latched his arms around Dwalin’s much wider shoulders and surrendered to the kiss.

He couldn’t really blame Dwalin, their courtship had only been made official some weeks ago, and if he was more comfortable with their audience it would have been near impossible to remove the older dwarrow from his hold.

But no matter how sweet Dwalin’s kisses where, he couldn’t relax knowing his majesty and her highness where in the room, most likely ouuu’ing and awwing at them when he couldn’t see.

The lady Dis was strangely ecstatic when she had learned of their courtship a few days prior, grinning too wide for a face identical to Thorin’s and almost skipping away after giving them both congratulatory smacks on the back that had made Dwalin barely twitch but him almost land face first in the dirt if not for his darlings quick hands.

But today both siblings looked restless and manic. Their ice blue eyes flicking to the library door in trepidation every few seconds before then trying to act as if nothing was wrong.

Ori may not be a very worldly dwarf, with only one adventure under his belt and the littlest scar on his nose for his troubles. And though he was clever, Nori often teased him with how naïve he could be.

But this he understood.

Thorin was making the same faces as he himself had when he wondered if Dwalin would like the knitted scarf he had made him as a courting gift. Ori had listened with a sighing heart as Bilbo explained hobbit customs for such occasions, usually the item with the least value but made with the most care was seen as priceless to the Shire folk. And it was with that in mind he had knitted the exquisite steel grey scarf for Dwalin and had given it to him with shaking fingers, hoping the legendary warrior wouldn’t laugh in his face and decide Ori was too strange for him to eventually marry.

But Dwalin had looked at the scarf as if it was made from the purest mithril, before holding it to his chest like a treasured toy from childhood. Not a moment had gone by, no matter the warmth of the day, when Dwalin had been seen without the scarf around his neck like a prized trophy.

And now Thorin stood on shaking feet as Ori once did, his eyes wild and unsteady, waiting for one simple gesture to see if his unorthodox gift would be welcomed or thrown in his face by his beloved.

“My little mouse, your head doesn’t seem to be in the present.” Dwalin whispered into his neck, his rough whiskers making Ori shiver and squeak.

“I am sorry, darling, I’m afraid our friends have stolen my thoughts for a time.”

Moving a step away from him, Dwalin looked to Thorin and Dis, whose attention was once more on the door willing it to open.

“Do not fret, Thorin has finally had some sense kicked into him.” He said with a wicked grin stretching his mouth, making him look young and innocent.

Before ether could speak more on the matter, the door whined open and the echo of a cane rang around the room, making everyone stand up straight in fear of what was to come.

Bilbo limped in, looking much brighter then he had in many months, his eyes roaming from one Durin to the next with a small smile on his lips, a quiet chuckle escaping before he could stifle it. Ori knew other races found it hard to tell the difference between their genders, but even he had to admit the remaining offspring of Thrain could only be told apart with a very detailed eye. Of course today lady Dis had decided to dress for her station in the finest blue silk gown the inhabitants of Erebor had seen in over a century, so Bilbo’s amusement was completely justified. If he saw Dwalin dressed in a fine silk dress with what little hair he had remaining braided delicately away from his tattooed face, he would do more then give a stifled chuckle.

“Good day my friends.” He said cheerily when he had made it to his seat near a stack of books he had been looking through for the better part of two weeks, jumping up to reach his stool and letting his cane hang off the table by its handle as he reached for the book at the top of the pile.

Everyone was deathly silent for the longest time, all wondering if Bilbo simply hadn’t noticed Thorin stood a few feet away from him, the king acting more like Kíli being ignored by Fíli as the seconds ticked by. His feet bouncing and his fingers flexing.

Another minute went by before Bilbo noticed the silence filling the room that usually echoed with rustling papers, scratching quills, and occasionally Ori’s humming when he couldn’t help himself.

Looking up from his book over half way finished he smiled at Dis, ignoring the others in the room absentmindedly.

“I wonder if you’d be so kind as to show me that flower stall you where telling me about the other day when you are free, my lady?” He asked almost shyly. Dis glided closer towards him, looking every inch like a spoiled princess who hadn’t gotten her way, with her beautiful dress billowing behind her dramatically and unnecessary.

“My dear Bilbo, once again I must insist you call me Dis, never will I allow a friend to address me by title. Are we not friends?”

“Of course we are… Dis. I am just a little clueless on dwarrow customs. More then anything I hope not to offend anyone, especially my friends.”

Ori was not simple, not by a long shot most certainly. But often he forgot Bilbo had not spent his life with the dwarves of the company. Once the little hobbit was in your life, it was near impossible to remember a time when he wasn’t there smiling wide and listening with rapt attention to the littlest story you wish to tell. For Bilbo to be confused about how he should treat dwarves and their customs was almost a foreign concept.

All at once Dis looked like herself once more, her spoilt princess façade gone to let her be the kind, caring dwarrowdam that was adored by all.

“It would be my pleasure to take you to the stall. Are you free now?”

A little flustered he gave her a quick nod before reaching for his cane and closing his book placing it once again on top of his pile.

Tough leathery feet padded softly against the cold stone of the library floor, accompanied with a sharp _click_ of a walking stick as Bilbo walked to the exit at a steady pace.

Ori almost let out a sigh for Thorin, Bilbo hadn’t even looked his way except to giggle at the similarities between his sister and he. But then just before the doors closed behind Dis and Bilbo, he turned around with a wide smile, not as pretty as it used to be, he was still a little jagged around the edges for it to be that wide, carefree, loved-up smile he used to give his company, but nether was it that sad little twitch of his lips he had been giving everyone for months.

“I’ll probably see you tomorrow Ori. Mister Dwalin.” He said in farewell with a respectful little bow, Ori’s betrothed was always held in high esteem with the hobbit for his protective nature and kind words.

And then with a soft gasp from Dwalin and Dis, Bilbo turned fully to Thorin and gave him a tiny, sweet smile, something delicate and hopeful that instantly made their king look taller and infinitely happier. The anguish that had burned in his eyes for months dimming a little. Giving a wide smile in return he also gave a bow in farewell and watched Bilbo turn and walk away with his sister.

Ori could see Thorin’s hands twitch, the only sign that he wished for his hobbits return. Except of course for his wide, childlike smile and twinkling eyes.

It was clear whatever Thorin had done was finally enough for Bilbo to finally start forgiving him. The gift had made Bilbo happy, and if Bilbo was happy then Thorin was more then content with the world.

They still had a long way to go before they where as carefree and happy as they once were on the road. But as Ori watched Thorin almost skip out of the library he knew all was not lost as they had all started to believe.

And with the library now empty, the little scribe dived for his One, tackling him to the floor and kissing the breath clean out of him. His heart singing when his warriors throaty chuckle echoed around the shelves and his large arms encircled him.

“Now,” Dwalin’s deep brogue whispered enticingly against his ear “where were we?”

 

~*~

 

The next weeks saw a great change in the resident hobbit and the new king. Bilbo didn’t seem to be fading away into the rocks surrounding him any more, his greyish pallor gaining his once rosy completion again. Thorin no longer walked around with eyes so unbearably sad no one could endure to look at him some days.

The king of Erebor walked with a spring in his steps now, for a different meaning then just repairing his home. Any free moments where spent in the kitchens, giving the cooks a frightful scare the first few times he wondered in with a scruffy book and proceeded to make something burnt or misshapen without a word. None batted an eyelash now whenever he shuffled through the doors, his hair tied back with a tough piece of leather and an old tunic covering his usual kingly wear. He wouldn’t really talk with the others, after a time they came to realise his concentration was solely on whatever he had decided to make that day, and he simply forgot others occupied the same space. His creations where messy and some days inedible, but he just rolled up his sleeves once more and tried again, a dwarf was nothing if not stubborn, he didn’t want his creations to be masterpieces thank mahál for he would never leave the kitchens, he just wanted them to be appreciated and able to be eaten. Some days he would get visitors, members of the company, his nephews, and more then likely his sister. Lady Dis would sit on the tables, making sure to tie her hair back in a similar fashion to her brother, and talk to him about royal business as if her king wasn’t wondering around with flour across his nose, holding a tray of burn muffins with a pair of flowered mittens and a terrified look in his eyes.

Bilbo had taken to walking around Erebor now with his stick at his side and a small smile on his face. Every night Thorin would present him with whatever he had baked that day, at first leaving his presents outside the door locked in a beautiful box like the one the scones had been delivered in. But after Bilbo had caught him skulking away with hunched shoulders and downcast eyes he had dared to invite him in for some tea. And so a new tradition had been made, every night at eight Thorin would knock on Bilbo’s door and present him with his newest creation, a soft, shy smile curving his lips, and Bilbo would invite him inside for tea with an answering nervous smile. They would talk about the state of Erebor and how Bilbo’s injuries faired. Some nights Thorin told him stories of his younger days, focusing on his and Dis’s troubled tween years when they had caused havoc wherever they went, the stories usually ending with Bilbo crying in laugher and determined to ask Dis of the latest tale from her perspective.

They never touched, never kissed, the fact that Thorin was courting Bilbo in the hobbit fashion was never mentioned but also never denied. Thorin knew his forgiveness could take years and didn’t wish to bully Bilbo into anything he did not wish, he had done that too much in their time together.

The one time they did touch had Thorin running from the room in fear. Bilbo caught his cane on the rug near the fireplace and lost his footing, if Thorin hadn’t caught him he would have probably set back the damage in his leg back a few weeks. But the dwarf had squeezed his arms too tight as he caught him and Bilbo had cried out at the new pain, Thorin had let go of him quickly and retreated as far from the hobbit as he could, watching with heartbroken eyes as he rubbed where Thorin had held him. He would likely bruise but no more damage then that, and Thorin had protected him, when he looked up to thank him for his aid, the dwarf was already running from the room without a word.

Though Thorin didn’t know it, that small act had endured him a little bit more to his hobbit and his road to forgiveness.

The next night when the timid knock came on his door, he opened his door happily and touched Thorin’s arm in greeting as he passed. The look he received was as if Bilbo had reached up and kissed him with great passion, was Thorin that touch starved, truly? And for a while nothing had changed from their routine except Bilbo’s touch of greeting at every meeting that Thorin never dared to reciprocate.

Until the day Dis came up with another plan of course.

 

~*~

 

“Stop complaining and just follow me will you, zár gimlún. Some days you complain worse then Kílí.”

Stomping behind her Thorin gave a _hurmph_ and crossed his arms, but continued to follow her. They where travelling upwards but to where Thorin didn’t know, the only place he remembered being up here was his amads personal sanctuary he had never bothered to find her in, if he needed her she would turn up eventually, except of course when she didn’t and now never would again, travelling up here now was simply too painful.

“I hope this won’t take long little sister… I have a flan in the oven.”

Stifling her snort of laughter into her shoulder she turned to him in the darkness and gave him a wide smile. “Do not fear _ohh_ mighty king of Erebor, your flan will not be ruined, I gave instructions for Bombour to care for it.”

Groaning loudly he started shuffling his feet and uncrossed his arms. “Bombour will eat the fucking flan not care for it. I’ll have to start from scratch.” He moaned loud enough for her to hear, when she laughed again he clenched his fist ready to strike first and hope for the best, but she would be expecting that, she always knew what he was going to do, and he would most likely end up in Oin’s care tonight and miss his chat with Bilbo, so better not give her the satisfaction.

“How much longer?” He huffed after five minutes more of travelling in the gloom with only his annoyingly silent sister for company.

“Dear Mahal are you thirty? The boys have never been this annoying, Thorin, think on that.”

His silence was his answer and she gave a firm nod in his direction as if she had won.

Just as he was about to ask again, or maybe walk back to the kitchens and hope Bombour had left a little of his flan to salvage for Bilbo, Dis gabbed his shoulder and rammed him into the wall. Except no pain came, but he did stumble as more space then he was expecting greeted him and the burning of the suns light blinded him.

Behind him Dis giggled, but he couldn’t care less as he looked around this haven he had no clue was in his mountain.

Flashes of memory returned to him as he looked around; that tree is where he would climb as his amad tended to the rose bushes just next to it, over there they would play hide and seek, her sun bright blonde hair flowing behind her as she ran from him before he could catch her with his little legs, her laugh like bells and her blue eyes shining with love for him, her eyes the only thing he had gained from his beautiful amad. For such a long time he had believed this place to be a dream, a place thought up by a boy playing man when the loss of his amad became too much. But here he stood… except of course if Dis had killed him in that darkened tunnel and his amad would greet him warmly any second and the two would wait happily for their family to return to them. But when he turned only his double stared back at him with a wicked smile on her stupid mouth.

“Well, what do you think?” She asked with her arms held about her as if he hadn’t noticed this beautiful place yet. “Amad spent all her free time here, the position of it makes sure it always has sun at least a few hours a day. The walls keeps the stronger winds at bay and the rocks surrounding take the brunt of heavier rains. No one knows of this place unless you are looking for it, there is a path of lighter rocks leading any here but only if you know what to look for. It is unreachable from the outside and probably the safest place in the mountain. The wall I pushed you into is its door and near impossible to tell from the wall surrounding it, unless again, if you are looking for it. The soil is good, and it’s had a while to rest so it’ll be fertile. Amad planted flowers that would last, so all this needs is a little tidying up.”

He looked around as if standing in Mahal’s very own halls.

“I don’t understand.” He whispered, a slight breeze picking up the smells surrounding the place and making his eyes water, this is what she smelled of, his beautiful amad smelt like these gardens he refused to visit as he became a spoilt prince and cared not for her habits, only to cling onto his fathers coattails and pretend at being a warrior. Dear Mahal he missed her so much.

“For Bilbo. This is what she would have wanted you to use them for. Bilbo will be your consort one day, maybe decades from now on his death bed he will find it in himself to forgive you, but forgive you he will, and this should be his until that time and beyond. All these rocks and stone are crippling for a hobbit, he needs grass and flowers and air. He needs this little piece of our mountain for his own.”

Though he didn’t like to admit it, nether out loud and especially to himself, Dis was an especially smart dwarf. It’s just a shame all the males of Durin’s line where as thick as mud.

“Don’t you wish to keep it for yourself? Amad would have liked you to use it as a haven as she once did.”

Laughing loudly she walked to a stone bench taken over by what seemed to be ivy and sat down without sweeping it away. “Amad would have liked me to use it, as she would Frerin and especially you, she feared you took yourself too seriously for one so dim and could be the ruin of anyone who came too close to your heart. Losing them before you even gave them a chance. Bilbo would welcome us here, I know he craves company from his family, and we are the only family he has. The company are his kin, he would drag us here daily and you know this to be true. Giving it to him will make sure we visit this place almost daily. If it was in my possession at most we would visit once a year and it will be lost to the ages. Bilbo will show it love as amad did. It will thrive under his care.”

It pained him to know his amad saw him as someone dim enough to throw away his One, and though he was fighting for him back and finally on the right track, she was right. He had thrown his hobbit away without a care for a shiny rock. This garden would give Bilbo back some of the things Thorin had stolen from him, the grass under his feet and a plot of earth to call his own. Though it wasn’t his beautiful Shire, it would be enough to give him a real home here under the mountain. They had progressed from angered silence to a welcome touch and once a day Thorin will make sure to see Bilbo smile as wide and carefree as he once did. And giving him this was a start to that promise.

Reaching over to his sister he gave her one of his rare wide smiles and smashed their heads together. Chuckling softly she pushed him away with batting hands. “Oh now don’t get soft, zár gimlún. Go and take care of your cake before Bombour devours it.”

Making his way towards the door with one last sweeping look of the gardens he smiled at Dis again and gave a low bow. “I would be lost without your help, my beautiful sister.”

Chucking she stuck her middle finger up at him with a wink.

“Of course you’d be lost without my help, kházash, what a truly stupid thing to say. Now fuck off and let me have a moment of piece without thinking of another plan to help you stop being an idiot.”

Turning on his heel he pulled open the door and heard her quiet grunting behind him ‘ _Beautiful indeed, vain bastard’_ and left with a chuckle.

Looking along the walls he saw some stones lighter then the others he wouldn’t have noticed without looking for them. His amad truly did crave her privacy.

Picking up the pace with the knowledge that Bombour would be removing his flan soon and wouldn’t think twice about eating it as quickly as possible he gave a growl at the thought of having to remake another flan.

Truly he loved Bilbo, but some things just had to be denied from the start. And a flan was definitely one of them.

 

~*~

 

“Good evening, Thorin. A little earlier then usual.” Spoke Bilbo happily that night, his hair still wet from his bath and drops of water running down his neck and soaking into his thin cotton shirt. Thorin tried to stifle a groan at the sight of a mostly damp hobbit, and only succeeded a little, turning his groan into a cough then earned him a firm pat on the back from Bilbo.

“Good evening, mister Baggins. I shall come back later if you are busy?”

“No, nonsense. I have done everything that needed doing. You just startled me is all, for the past few weeks you arrive precisely on time. But it is no bother. Come in, come in.”

Stepping into Bilbo’s rooms that where now humid compared to how chilled they where in the beginning, he smiled at his hobbit when his smaller hand lingered on his bare arm in greeting.

“And what have you made for me tonight?” Asked Bilbo with a smile as he eyed up the covered plate in his hands. With a flourish, Thorin revealed the only slightly burnt flan that Bombour had been moments away from taste testing before he had crashed into the kitchen and threw the first thing at hand at the rotund dwarf, luckily it was only a rolling pin and not a knife that had hit Bombour on the head.

“Strawberry flan. You said once how it was one of your favourites.” Answered Thorin with a nervous smile and downcast eyes.

Bilbo let out a little gasp at the slightly misshapen flan. Thorin only knew food and flowers where given when courting, he didn’t understand the importance of baking favourite foods. If he presented him with flowers soon Bilbo would have to agree to Thorin’s courting or dismiss him entirely.

“Y-yes, my mother used to make it for me when I was a fauntling. How did you manage to get strawberries in this season?”

Smiling smugly, Thorin gave a chuckle while walking towards the table they conversed at every night. “I _am_ a king Bilbo. I have some influence.”

Closing the door to his quarters, Bilbo rolled his eyes and followed Thorin to the table so he could get their tea ready. “King or not, you don’t have any say over the weather, _your majesty_.” Snarked Bilbo with a little flourished bow that made Thorin chuckle, his icy blue eyes sparkling happily at Bilbo and making his breath stutter in his chest.

“… Nori said he could get me some. I didn’t ask and he didn’t tell, I find it’s better to interact with Nori that way. Dis may have also been involved, so I definitely didn’t ask.”

Sniggering to himself Bilbo looked down at the teapot he was holding, measuring out leafs without a thought. “Oh well if Dis is involved, I most definitely wouldn’t ask where they managed to obtain fresh strawberries in this weather.”

They soon settled down to their routine, Thorin adding a monstrous amount of sugar to his tea to the discomfort of Bilbo, while the hobbit only added half a spoon of honey to the clear distaste of Thorin. And when Bilbo bit into his flan, Thorin’s observant eyes watching his every chew for even a hint of displeasure, he gave him a soft smile. Although burnt a little, and misshapen, the strawberries not pulped enough in places and pulped too much in others, it was delicious. Transporting him back to a little lad, hanging off his mothers dress watching in fascination as she made flans with up most care so her husband would know how much he was loved. Though the two didn’t taste identical, he could tell how much Thorin had fretted over it. How much care he had put into it.

“I love you.” He whispered before he could stop himself, his hands quickly slapping over his mouth to stop any more words escaping unwanted. Thorin stared at him with wide eyes, his pupils turned to pin pricks and his completion draining to snow white. They looked at each other for an infinite moment.

“I-I-I… I’m sorry I didn’t mean to say that.” Stuttered Bilbo, moving his shaking hands away from his mouth and resting them solidly on his lap. Thorin looked as if he had been winded, his eyes so sad and broken.

“I… erm. Do not worry yourself, I know your mother used to make this for you… it is understandable that it would make you feel things long lost.”

“No! Thorin that isn’t what I meant… Yavanna that is not what I meant at all.”

Pressing his hands to his face once more he let out a broken sob that shattered Thorin’s heart.

“Dwarves love only once and once lost they do not love again. Hobbits are similar in that respect, we love only once, and when lost to us we do not love again. But we do not carry on, we fade. After I thought you lost to me, I began to fade. You _are_ my One, Thorin Oakenshield, and I will love you until the world burns away.”

Thorin was up in an instant, kneeling in front of Bilbo with his head bowed, daring not to touch.

“I am not as stupid as to take your confession as forgiveness, ázyungel. I could not accept such an easy penance. I treated you with dishonour, like a villain from one of your books, and I will not stop begging for forgiveness until you smile as you once did, beyond that even 'til the end of my days. Your leg will forever remind me of my madness and cruelty. Your words give me comfort that one day we will be as we once were, that I will wake to you in my arms once again. But today… today is not that day my dear burglar.”

Looking down at this mighty king on his knees, Bilbo couldn’t stop himself from reaching out for his hand, bringing it close to his face and kissing the palm delicately. Thorin let out a shaky breath and with a trembling mouth brought Bilbo’s hand to his own mouth and kissed his knuckles quickly, daring to do no more.

“Thank you for understanding, Thorin.”

Standing up once more, and taking a few steps back so as not to be looming over him he smiled warmly, the unshed tears in his eyes making the blue look brilliant and beautiful. “I spent too long doubting you, ázyungel, I will never doubt you again.”

Giving him a deep bow as he did every night to show his respect before saying his farewells, he cradled the hand Bilbo had kissed as if his most treasured possession. “And now I will bid you goodnight, my hobbit. Until tomorrow?”

Smiling brilliantly as he once did, Bilbo stood and bowed as graceful as he could with his bum leg and cumbersome cane. “Goodnight, Thorin. Until tomorrow.”

Walking with a spring in his step to the doors, Thorin pulled them open with ease before turning around and whispering shyly “I love you, Bilbo.” And then he was gone with the quiet click of the door.

The room was cooler without Thorin’s hulking presence filling his chair. Making Bilbo shiver a little and move closer to the fire.

“ _A most unexpected night indeed_.” He whispered to himself, giggling softly as he ran his fingers across his knuckles where Thorin had kissed him like some kind of prince charming to his damselled princess.

With his heart feeling lighter then it had in months, he hobbled to his door to lock it before making his way to his bed chambers, a wide smile accompanying his every step.

 

~*~

 

“Put your back into it!” Shouted Dis from her vantage point on the bench as Thorin pulled up yet another weed. Though the garden had kept well in the century it had been allowed to grow as it wished, it was almost covered in nettles and dandelions. Pulling up another and throwing it into the sack he had brought that was already over flowing with the little buggers he let out a growl in Dis’s general direction.

“I have been here every day for weeks and still there are more. I feel like I will be here forever!” He complained, choosing to ignore her grating laugh and continue with his work.

Last week he had retaliated to her mockery and ended up with a black eye for his troubles, so instead he has chosen the smartest path and allowed her to do as she so wishes for the time being, many have agreed this to be a noble and wise decision. Although his black eye had earned him a soft touch on the cheek by Bilbo, so every cloud.

“Soon you will have it right, and you will present it to Bilbo and be shagging on every available surface to make up for lost time, I’m sure.” She said with a deep chuckle, and when he looked at her with a raised eyebrow, she gave him a lecherous grin and over exaggerated wink that made him shudder.

“Please do not mention shagging again, especially when it involves me.”

“… when you _make love_ to Bilbo on every avail-”

“Just don’t mention anything to do with Bilbo and myself being intimate.”

Standing up and brushing the stray bit of foliage off of her coat she walked to him with heavy steps and bent down to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“You speak as if you didn’t have the little hobbit bent over any available surface buggering him senseless once upon a time.”

“Watch your tongue before I cut it out, sister.”

Laughing without fear she moved some of his wayward hair away from his face to tuck behind his ear. “Oh yes, you and Bilbo are nothing but virginal tweens, aren’t you? Mister Baggins has told me of your vigorous activities on your travels with a sigh and a hungry look in his eyes. I didn’t say you would be initiating such activities did I, kházash? That little hobbit is about ready to jump you.”

Feeling his cheeks flush like some idiotic elfin youngling, he attacked the next weed with more venom then the others. “Do not mock me, Dis.”

“Would I do something like that?... Well, in a matter that is truly important?”

He didn’t bother answering.

“He seems to have really taken a turn for the good lately. His leg hurts less and he’s smiling more. Ori told me he hums and whistles when he’s helping out in the library, and my boys say he jokes with them as he once used to. What ever you are doing for him, keep doing it.”

They had had no other nights like the one when he presented the flan. There had been no declarations of love, no more softly pressed kisses to hands. They where as they where before, but now with an added something in the way they looked and talked to each other. They understood that one day they will be where they once was, that Thorin would be able to hold Bilbo without the hobbit flinching away. A time when they both won’t be woken up by nightmares of the same day seen from different eyes.

“Do you think he will like it here?” He asked her.

“I know he will love it dearly. Surely you will have it finished by the weeks out?” She replied while walking back to her bench and sweeping off wayward leafs that had fallen there in her absence.

“By tomorrow I should have it all cleaned up. Do you think I should give it to him as soon as it’s ready?”

Folding herself up on the bench with all the grace of a princess from the line of Durin, he decided not to tell her of the mud she had wiped across her brow, not doubt grubbing her hand when she moved his hair aside. “You should do it as soon as possible. He will appreciate it greatly.”

Nodding in assent he ripped out the last weed from this patch and threw it quickly towards Dis, laughing loud enough for it to echo around this little caved garden, and mask a little of her scream of surprise. Standing up quickly she ran for him, not caring for the dandelion caught in her hair as she dived for him as he began to make his escape.

His laughing didn’t stop even as she punched him repeatedly in the arm until it was numb then jabbed him hard in the ribs.

 

~*~

 

“Ahh, Thorin. Right on time.” Said Bilbo happily as he opened the door to an impeccably dressed Thorin with nothing in his hands as he usually did. As of late he always had some tell of his baking on his person, flour on his face, hair or clothes, maybe some patch of skin dyed from whatever fruits he’d been using. But tonight he was perfect, wearing a simple dark blue tunic and dark brown breeches with his usual boots. His hair was combed through and braided to perfection. He was very handsome and suspiciously clean, Bilbo just knew something was happening.

“Bilbo, I was hoping… that is if you’re amicable to the idea, that you will join me for a walk?” He asked quietly, his hands fidgeting together in front of him and looking much younger then his hundred and ninety years merited. Something in his nervous eyes made Bilbo grab his jacket by the door and put it on quickly, holding his cane tightly and following Thorin without a word.

They where quiet for a while before his curiosity became too much and he asked quickly “Where are we going?”

Jumping slightly, Thorin looked at Bilbo with wide eyes looking so young and hopeful. “I-I-It’s a surprise. A present for you.” He stuttered. Dis had told him many times how Thorin stuttered when nervous, and though he had witnessed it in the slightest ways over the last few months, he had never been the reason for his stutter to start.

“Oh well, I love presents. Lead on.”

They walked down tunnels Bilbo had never been before, lighter shades of stones leading the way. They walked upwards for what felt like hours but Bilbo knew that to be the darkness making everything seem longer, at most they couldn’t have been walking more then twenty minutes, before stopping at a none descript part of the tunnel except for the trail of lighter stones had stopped and a few of them surrounded a part of the wall.

“We’re here… but you have to close your eyes?” Asked Thorin with a soft smile. Raising his eyebrow sceptically, Thorin only smiled wider “It’s a surprise.”

Closing his eyes tightly, he shuddered softly when Thorin’s large paw like hands held his own gently and pulled him forward towards the wall. But instead of walking into it, he was met with a sweet breeze and the smell of sweet-peas. A clunk behind him that sounded like a heavy door closing left all the sounds of the mountain behind he hadn’t even realised where there until they where gone. Thorin’s strong hands pulled him forward a little bit more, his strength easily helping with Bilbo’s limp and making him feel as if it wasn’t there anymore.

“Can I open my eyes yet?”

“One moment.” Whispered Thorin, letting go of his hands and making sure his stick was firmly underneath him before walking away.

“Ok… now.”

With a deep breath to calm his nerves, he finally opened his eyes and let out a loud gasp at where he was.

It was a paradise. Walls of sweet-peas and rows of rose bushes lined the walls of this garden in the mountain. Cherry, and orange blossom trees grew in patches wherever he looked, as well as some more exotic flowers he had only ever seen in books. Flaming red, and deep purple snap dragons grew from nooks within the walls and patches of daisies and buttercups grew wherever they wished. It was beautiful, bigger then his garden in Hobbiton ever was. Gorgeous benches carved from marble dotted around freshly cleaned judging by how they sparkled. He never imagined such a place like this could exist in Erebor, the walls and rocks gave the perfect protection from harsher weather but also let in sun and lighter rain. Candles where dotted about making the place look ethereal, a place to find pixies and imps, Bilbo was truly in love with it.

And in the centre stood Thorin, his smile warm and loving. Next to him was a magnificently carved marble table with a plate of cookies on top. Letting out a happy laugh Bilbo had to look around him once more to check he wasn’t dreaming, before limping towards Thorin, feeling like he was walking on air.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s yours.” Said Thorin, his voice rumbling quietly, no doubt trying to hide his chuckle at the wonder of Bilbo’s face. Leading Bilbo towards the table he pulled out his chair then took his own seat opposite.

“Surely not, this place is a treasure all on its own, Thorin.”

“It was my amads, everyday she would come up here to find her peace within the bustle of Erebor. She was from a nomadic tribe of dwarrows from the south, a jewel to her people, so she was used to nature more then us mountain dwellers.”

Picking up a cookie, Bilbo took a big bite unable to stop his moan as the right amount of cinnamon and raisins filled his mouth, he always found it such a disappointment when he picked up a cookie expecting oats and raisins and getting chocolate instead. It seems Thorin had been listening to his mumbled rant all those months ago in Lake Town.

“As a young one I would come up here and we would play together, she smelled of this place and it always gave me great comfort. As I grew older, I became spoilt, not caring for my amad or her frivolous activities, only caring for Thrain and Thror’s acceptance. By the time I realised what I was doing she was gone from me forever.”

The sadness in Thorin’s face made Bilbo lean forward and touch his hand briefly, he too knew the loss of a mother before he could fully appreciate her presence.

“This place was her sanctuary in a mountain she didn’t quiet fit in, and though I wish you to feel included here, I know you will always feel an outsider, as she did. So this is my gift to you Bilbo Baggins. My amads private gardens for you to do with as you wish.”

Sat frozen on the spot, Bilbo could do nothing but stare at Thorin.

Though he didn’t know it, he had gifted Bilbo with his favourite foods then presented him with flowers. Truly more flowers then anyone would gift for a courting favour but flowers none the less. Thorin may not know what he was doing, but Bilbo knew and understood, by the laws of his people he _had_ to make his decision.

Accept him or turn from him forever.

Standing up he hurried to the wall overlooking Mirkwood, in the distance he could see just the barest hint of the Misty Mountains and found himself wishing for the time past when they where travelling towards the mountain he had now made his home. Things, though dangerous, where simpler, his infatuation of Thorin was nothing more then a spark, thinking the outcast king would never see anything in him worth making him his bed partner. Every word spoken to him was a cruel sneer or a belittling growl. Bilbo imagined they would carry on that way, and if their quest succeeded they would part with a handshake and never think more on each other.

Except of course his spark of infatuation had to burn into love and Thorin had to bloody reciprocate.

Their time together on the road was nothing short on perfection. It didn’t matter that they where in danger constantly, or that they slept under the stars on the uncomfortable earth. Thorin would tuck him under his arm and nuzzle into his hair, his warm breath sighing across his ear and making him shiver. They acted like lovesick tweens, making sure the company was safe before running off to some alcove or behind some distant bush to slate their lusts, giggling, kissing, biting, it was just the two of them, finally they had someone to truly call their own. Then Thorin had confessed Bilbo was his One, maybe Thranduil’s dungeons wasn’t the most romantic of places but Bilbo didn’t care. Pulling Thorin close against the bars and kissing him breathless.

It was perfect and Bilbo should have known it wouldn’t last.

A soft touch on his shoulder had Bilbo whirling around with terrified eyes to see a distraught Thorin once more backing away, his hands raised as if showing a wild animal he meant no harm. Is that what he was now? Some skittish creature his One dare not touch in fear of attack? He had only hit him on a few occasions with his cane, and that was only because he had frightened him at the beginning.

Before he could utter an apology Thorin shook his head and looked down, his shoulders hunched and his entire being looking _so_ lost and lonely.

“I knew it was too soon to gift you with this place. I did not expect you to forgive me, this is not a bribery. I am sorry if it has overwhelmed you, ázyungel. If you banish me from your sight forever, this mountain will still be your home, and this place will still be your sanctuary.”

Looking up at him with watery eyes he bowed low and left without a word. Leaving Bilbo in this place feeling so cold now Thorin was gone. Without him there smiling hopeful and innocent at him it had lost its beauty.

Moving back to the chair he had vacated mere minutes ago, he sat with a huff and buried his face in his hands.

His sobbing started sometime later and with a quiet whisper he said “I accept.”

 

~*~

 

Thorin didn’t turn up at his quarters the next night, or the night after that. For a week there was no knock on his door, and Bilbo sat in the silence with tears streaming down his face.

It felt like it had all those months ago when it was uncertain if he would live or die, when Thorin had kept to his promise and stayed away. Not seeing him had clawed at his heart, and he knew seeing him would feel much the same.

He knew he had forgiven Thorin some weeks ago, he had been nothing but sweet to him, ashamed and repentant of what his madness had driven him to. Bilbo knew Thorin would rather slit his own throat then raise his hand in anger towards him again. Everyday he was reminded of his greatest shame, though a lot of his people disapproved of his desired consort being a lowly hobbit, none could deny anyone their One, and to treat him as he had, many of his people looked at Thorin as if he was a barbarian. Truly Bilbo had forgiven him, he was just terrified of what his acceptance would mean.

The knocking on his door startled him at such a late hour, but knowing this wing was especially well guarded and his friends where only a shout away if he couldn’t grab sting in time, he didn’t feel particularly nervous to open his door.

He should have.

Thorin stood on the other side looking haggard and desperate, a dull knife held in his hand, not daring to meet his eyes.

“Master hobbit, may we please speak in private for a moment.” His voice was hard, masked from what emotion his eyes where shining in the brief glimpse Bilbo managed.

Opening the door wider Bilbo couldn’t find it in himself to fear this half crazed Thorin as he had the other, this madness was brought about by heartsickness, not goldsickness. Walking past him quickly Thorin stood in the middle of the room as Bilbo closed the door behind him.

“Do you want a drink?”

“No, thank you.”

They stared at each other for a moment before Thorin sprang into action, holding out the knife towards Bilbo so he could grab the hilt safely before stepping back and dropping gracefully to his knees. Looking up at Bilbo with such longing he wanted to crash to his knees and join him down there. But Thorin had come with a purpose and Bilbo wouldn’t distract him.

“It is customary by my people that when a party has been wronged the other must make the greatest sacrifice to make penance. I will forever try to make my shameful deeds right, no matter if I have hope for forgiveness or not, but this sacrifice must be made for you to see how my heart bleeds without yours by it.”

Bending his head down slightly he grabbed a fistful of his hair and held it away from his head. “Take what you need to feed whatever anger still lives in you.”

Gasping behind the hand that had come up to cover his face, Bilbo looked down at the dull knife held loosely in his hand.

“But with the shame of your hair cut you won’t be able to rule Erebor.” He whispered, tears springing to his eyes at this sudden turn. Why couldn’t they go back to the garden? Why couldn’t Bilbo have accepted Thorin then?

“I have already sorted matters. Dis will rule as co-regent with Fíli until he is mature enough to rule on his own. My crown is nothing compared to you, my hobbit.”

His tears fell at the acceptance in Thorin’s eyes. He saw no other way, the crown or Bilbo, and Bilbo had won without even knowing they where competing.

“I’ve read enough books to know its agony for a dwarf to shave and this blade is nearly dull!”

“Aye.”

With a sob Bilbo threw the knife as if it was aflame, listening to it clatter across the smooth stone of his floor.

Diving for Thorin, Bilbo brushed his hair out of his hand and wrapped his arms over his shoulders, burying his face in his neck and sobbing like a child. Thorin was still for a moment before wrapping his own arms around his waist and nuzzling into Bilbo’s curls, his breath ghosting across his ears.

“I accept you. I accept you, Thorin. Please don’t ask me to do that ever again! What a stupid dwarf you are, as if I could do that to you! I accept you, my heart. I love you. _Oh_ my silly dwarf, I forgive you, I truly do.”

Bilbo could feel Thorin’s breath struggle to escape, his chest hitching and shaking. His arms getting slightly tighter as if fearing Bilbo would slip through his fingers any second.

Sitting back and moving his legs so he could straddled Thorin’s thighs, taking away the pressure from his bad leg, he took hold of Thorin’s face and pushed him back so he could see him properly. His eyes where bloodshot and tears silently streaked down his stubbled cheek, but he looked so heart-wrenchingly happy Bilbo couldn’t stop laughing, leaning forward so he could brush his lips against Thorin’s slightly trembling ones.

“Silly dwarf.” He muttered softly against Thorin’s now grinning mouth, not able to stop himself as he leaned forward for another kiss.

“I have not pushed you into this?” Asked Thorin softly, eyes looking brilliant, all traces of his sadness gone from his face, but still weary in case this was all a trick.

“You could not push me into anything I didn’t truly want Thorin, haven’t you learnt that by now? If you had not walked away in your mother’s garden and given me a while to think, we would have reached this point much sooner.”

Bringing Bilbo closer to him again and huffing a laugh into his neck, pressing his lips to the strong beat that was quickly picking up speed. “Most definitely a silly dwarf if we could have been doing this sooner.”

They stayed like that for what could have been hours, occasionally daring to kiss whatever skin was available, mainly necks and shoulders, and sometimes Bilbo would move forward and kiss Thorin softly, once or twice nipping his bottom lip and earning a happy rumble in return.

The chill of the floor eventually made Bilbo’s leg throb too painful for him to ignore. “Up with you, ázyungel.” Whispered Thorin after Bilbo had let out one whimper too many to be ignored, placing a soft kiss against the hollow of his throat and guiding his hands to his waist to help lift him up. Once on his feet with his cane supporting his weight easily, Thorin too jumped to his feet and held his arm out in case his aid was needed.

Slowly the two made their way to Bilbo’s sleeping quarters, the little hobbit grumbling the entire way for the state of his bum leg, Thorin happy to listen to his complaining. After a stumble too many Thorin quickly grabbed Bilbo in his arms and carried him to his bed to the hobbits annoyance, every step echoed with a shove for Thorin to let him down. Once placed softly on the bed as if he was made of glass, Thorin stepped back and looked at him like a puppy awaiting his next order, Bilbo could almost see his proverbial tail wagging.

“Could you pass me my tonics please?” Asked Bilbo with a point towards his vanity table at the other end of the room, moving himself up the bed to sit by the cushions and watching Thorin stride back with the vile tonics in hand.

Patting the edge of the bed for Thorin to sit, he took hold of the potions he should be used to swallowing by now and started drinking them as instructed months ago. By the time they where all drunk, he was feeling light headed and the pain in his leg was all but gone. “Ahhh, much better.” He whispered, patting his thigh happily, hardly able to feel even that touch or anything else really except the fuzzy prickling he had gotten use to.

“I shall leave you to your rest then, my Bilbo.” Said Thorin, reaching forward to push the wayward curls that had fallen into his face with tender care behind his ear.

“No! Erm no, that came out more forceful then I meant. What I mean is… can you not stay? I have only just got you back, and if I wake alone, I may think this all some dream brought around by my heartsickness.”

Thorin stared at him like he had just sprouted wings.

“Just to sleep of course. I get so bloody cold at night, I got too use to your furnace heat at my back on the journey and haven’t gotten use to you not there these last few months.”

“I-I have no sleepwear here.”

Giggling drowsily, Bilbo began unbuttoning his shirt and trousers looking at Thorin as if he was simple. “Oh please as if I haven’t seen all the important bits before on numerous occasions. Do you not remember how you loved me on my knees filling my mouth with your co-”

“YES! _Uh_ , of course I remember… that. Quiet well in fact. It has just been many months since then and I did not know if you would be comfortable.”

Shucking off his shirt Bilbo continued to look at him with confused annoyance. “Of course I will be comfortable, I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

But soon Thorin forgot his worries as he was presented with Bilbo’s thin torso. He remembered his hobbit being plump, creamy skin only blemished with spattering of freckles here and there. Now his stomach caved in and if he so wished, he could count his ribs without any effort. He was littered with scars, the marks of the warg that nearly took his life, and other marks from the war blemishing his skin like a map.

He must have been staring for a while before Bilbo cleared his throat and covered himself with his blanket, looking down at the warn thread with shame.

“I know I’m not the hobbit you fell in love with anymore, Thorin. The worry over your gold madness made my appetite nearly disappear, and then with the amount of infections I gained on my supposed death bed my weight simply fell off of me.”

Pulling his blanket further up so it was tucked under his chin, making him look like a scared child waiting for thunder, eyes wide and lips thinned.

“I’m ugly, a small scarred thing, too thin for a hobbit, and too chubby and weak for a dwarf. I completely understand if you cannot find me desirable any longer.”

Moving quickly to sit on the edge of the bed closer to Bilbo, he cupped his face and swiped his callused thumb across his lips lovingly.

“Bilbo, ázyungel I desire you more today than I did yesterday, and yesterday I desired you more then the day before that. You are everything I could ever want for a lover Bilbo. I did not fall in love with your chubby thighs or tubby stomach Bilbo, no matter how I use to praise them. It is simply you I love, and you could grow four feet taller and strip you ears to finer points and I will still adore your every breath, my hobbit.”

Reaching up his hand to hold Thorin’s hand to his face, closing his eyes to cherish the feel of him holding him so tenderly.

“You cannot desire this broken body.” He whispered, ashamed when his bottom lip began to tremble.

“I can and I will. If I could I would hold you in my arms and make love to you until you can no longer remember your name. I would keep you laid out on this bed for days, weeks, with nothing but my touch until you know how I desired you, and will continue to do so until the earth swallows us up.”

Laughing he pulled Thorin’s hand close and kissed his palm where he had weeks ago. Earning a laboured breath from Thorin followed by a deep chuckle.

“Please don’t leave me alone tonight. I don’t want to sleep on my own again.”

Nodding he moved away and stripped out of his boots, placing them neatly at the bottom of the bed so Bilbo would know exactly where they where in the morning so as not to trip over them on his way to the bathroom. Next he pulled off his ratty tunic, feeling Bilbo’s eyes on him following his every move as this hobbit quickly removed his own trousers and snuggled under the blankets and furs, staring at Thorin as if he was a riveting play for his eyes only. Bilbo had once spoken aloud his adoration of Thorin’s muscled dwarrow frame, whorls of black hair covering thick muscles and dark tattoos, the glazed look in his eyes now proved his own desire had not faded as he feared Thorin’s own had. Next he removed his breeches, pulling them down quickly to have it over with, standing up in all his glory awaiting Bilbo’s approval.

They had never quiet made it to be completely unclothed in front of each other on their journey, there was too much danger to shed all their clothing so they made do with tucked up shirts and trousers pulled down to knees, if in a hurry they never made it that far, simply unlaced breeches with a fumble until they completed the task.

“What’re you waiting for?” Asked Bilbo after he had looked his fill, cheeks burning red and breath quickened.

With an almost spring to his step he bounded to the other side of the bed and slipped in quietly, pulling the blankets and furs over himself but daring not to touch Bilbo until instructed he was allowed. And soon enough when Bilbo noticed he wasn’t going to move from his spot, he huffed and scooted backwards until his back collided with Thorin’s chest, reaching behind him for his lax arm and bringing it over himself to hold it tight, bringing Thorin closer so only their feet and heads weren’t touching.

“Demanding creature.” Thorin growled, pushing his face forward to bury it in Bilbo’s curly hair, breathing him in deep and rumbling his contentment as he finally started to relax.

“Silly dwarf.” Bilbo replied, his smile heard in his words. Bringing their clasped hands up briefly, he kissed Thorin’s knuckles, giggling when Thorin moved just enough to kiss his exposed neck gently before nuzzling into his hair once more.

“Goodnight, Thorin.” He managed to whisper before his tonics truly pulled him under and he started blabbing nonsense as he was known to do if he didn’t get to sleep in time.

“Goodnight, ázyungel.” Whispered Thorin, knowing Bilbo wouldn’t be awake much longer.

When he had arrived tonight he fully expected his honour to be gone, he had chosen the dull blade so he could feel his shame. Talking to his family had been hard but eventually they had understood, he had dishonoured his One and only this would show Bilbo how truly repentant he was.

But instead here he lay, wrapped around the little hobbit as his guardian from the night as he use to be. His Bilbo’s soft breath lulling him into his own sleep, his smaller hand clinging to his own like a lifeline he was terrified of letting go. He knew that he will sleep easier tonight then he had in a _very_ long time, and holding Bilbo just that little bit tighter, he hoped Bilbo would too.

 

~*~

 

Bilbo was woken up the next day by strong arms pulling him closer to the furnace of the body they were attached to. For months he had slept alone, cold in the night without Thorin's often times suffocating heat at his back pulling him closer. This was such a familiar gesture from the road that he believed himself within a dream for a few minutes and felt a pang of hurt that he would never feel this protected again. But then the familiar ache in his leg and hip flared up and a meaty hand was their rubbing circulation back into the scars before he could move.

His moan must have alerted Thorin of his wakefulness as suddenly his head was surrounded by a curtain of thick salt and pepper hair when he hovered over him with a wide grin, the likes of which he had never seen on Thorin's face before. He looked so much like his nephews, and so much like Dis he let out a quiet giggle before he could stop himself. Instead of being offended as he may have once been, his grin only got impossibly bigger.

“Good morning, ázyungel.” Thorin said, his voice deep and gravelly from sleep, making Bilbo ache in places he had believed dead for some time now. He had always adored Thorin's voice, a voice he had never heard the likes of in his sheltered life in Hobbiton. It was that voice that had convinced him to partake in the quest, not from anything he said, oh no, if Thorin's speaking to him was what made Bilbo agree to be their burglar he would be a truly broken creature indeed, Thorin was incapable of speaking kind words to him for the first half of their journey after all. It was his voice as he sang that night so long ago, full of pain and longing for a home lost an age ago. He knew he fell in love with Thorin that night, a little spark in his heart he believed to be nothing but infatuation when awake. And ever since his voice had been a trigger for him. Be that good or bad.

This morning it was so very good.

“Good morning yourself. Did you sleep well?” He asked as his hand reached up without his say so and pushed some of Thorin's falling hair behind his ear to see some more of his face in the dying embers of the fire. Just as handsome as the first day he saw him, now with the added scars of the battle but still as handsome.

“I slept better than I have in about a century.” He joked, his smiles as easy now as his frowns once where. “My kingdom returning to its former glory. My family curse broken for good. And you, oh the most important one, my ázyungel in my arms where he belongs.” His smile dimmed slightly as he stared into Bilbo's eyes. “You do not regret me?”

Using what little flexibility he had left in him, he managed to spin them around so that Thorin was on his back and he sat astride Thorin's hips, pinning him down with a smile. Now that he had witnessed the dwarfs wide loving smiles he never wanted them gone.

“Silly dwarf. I could never regret you. I love you.”

Now it was Thorin's turn to reach up and push Bilbo's curls behind his ear, lingering slightly to caress the point of his ear, making his whole body shiver.

“I love you too.”

Leaning down to lay his head against Thorin's furred chest he let out a sigh when his arms came up to wrap around him tightly.

“I know that, silly dwarf.”

“Still not going to make me stop telling you everyday, impertinent hobbit.”

Leaning forward to give each other a kiss, Bilbo settled himself once more against Thorin's chest. It was too early in the morning for anyone to be awake, too early in the morning to partake in the activities their bodies where screaming for. Maybe in a few hours, when they where fully rested. But for now it was much to early for anything, even for the king and future consort.

 

*~*~*

 

They married three years after the battle of the five armies. Bilbo standing proud and regal at his rightful place besides Thorin. Thorin on the other hand could hardly keep the smile from his face and looked so far away from the fearsome warrior king sang about in ballads it was nearly laughable. Bilbo's walking stick was redundant that day with his new husbands constant hold on his arm or waist.

Their life wasn't easy together. Even though Thorin was a happier dwarf than he had been for years, his temper got the better of him some days. At first he tried to curb it away from Bilbo's eyes, afraid if he witnessed him shouting he would trigger the memories they had worked so hard to put behind them and they would be right back where they started once the battle was over. He couldn't bare to see the look of fear directed to him from the eyes of his One again. But once again he underestimated his hobbit. When Bilbo witnessed his temper flare instead of cowering he let his own temper burn.

Many of the council members didn't really understand why the hobbit was their with them, especially in such a prestigious role as co-adviser alongside Balin. They saw him in such a role as weakness on Thorin's part, wishing to impress his intended with a role too advanced for him that would end up harming their people instead of helping them. That was until they witnessed him going head to head against Thorin when he was having one of his temper tantrums. They all left the room with a new found respect for the little hobbit unafraid of an angry dwarf king. Not only did he not flinch, but he matched him shout for shout until Thorin submitted and apologised. The rest of the council members where stunned to silence from then on, welcoming Bilbo in as one of their own.

They had good days when they would spend as long as possible in bed, learning everything they could about each other. Days upon days locked within their rooms with only the quietest of moans and chuckles heard outside. Emerging with grins and barely able to keep their hands to themselves.

They had days when they couldn't even look at each other and avoided each other as much as possible. Days when Bilbo was in too much pain to move with his hip that never healed and though unintentional, looked at Thorin with accusation and betrayal. Days when Thorin was too blinded by his guilt and self pity he couldn't stomach being in the same room as his One.

Thorin became unusually jealous when Bilbo and Thranduil's friendship grew. The elven king taking to Bilbo as if he was some exotic creature to be studied at first, but soon it became strangely obvious they adored each other and became the closest of friends, corresponding weakly and becoming the oddest of companions. Whenever the forest elf visited with Nestariél on his heels, which much to the dwarves annoyance became much more often than before, the three could be found in Bilbo's kitchen. At first talking as Bilbo baked, but which soon turned into baking lessons for the king when Thranduil showed an interest in the pastime, he became a master at it soon enough. Thorin burned with jealousy when he saw how his enemy made his hobbit laugh, and angry that the elf had stolen a past time that was his and his hobbits secret. Thorin never stopped presenting Bilbo with food as he did when he was begging his forgiveness, but now that bloody tree shagger had stolen a bit of their private devotion to each other. Bilbo would just laugh at him and argue at least Thranduil's love of baking had made him forget his love of dwarrow gold. And that no matter if Thranduil baked the most delicious pies in all of Arda, he would always choose Thorin's misshapen scones over everything else.

Frodo was indeed a surprise. Arriving with Gandalf one night a few years after their marriage, with the news Bilbo's cousin and wife had been killed on the lake, and that he was now caregiver of the little fauntling. The king and consort under the mountain stared at Frodo with fear as he looked back with curiosity. They where to be in charge of such a small thing. Adopt the little orphan as their own and love him.

It was surprisingly easy done.

He fitted into their lives like he was always meant to be there. A missing piece they didn't realise was missing. When he became old enough he became apprentice to Ori, loving books as much as his uncle Bilbo and wishing to become as great a scribe as the youngest Ri brother, chronicling his own adventures he was sure to have one day.

Erebor flourished, becoming as great as it once was. None could find fault in their hobbit consort, except the few pure blood fanatics of course.

Erebor was a city of prosperity and peace, a beacon for the dwarves across Middle Earth to strive towards with unbreakable bonds of brotherhood with the men of Laketown and the elves of Mirkwood.

And in the middle keeping everything running smoothly was the strange little family; the dwarf king, his hobbit consort, their hobbit son, and the other twelve members of the company making everything tick together harmoniously in their reclaimed city... and of course the meddlesome dwarrow princess who could sometimes be found chuckling to herself when she caught sight of her brother and his husband looking like lovesick tweens parading their love for all to see. It wouldn't be as funny to her if they hadn't been married for so long now they both sported heads of pure silver hair and crinkled skin.

Every night when their duties allowed it, they would all meet in Bilbo's garden, brought back to true beauty like the nomadic queen had once had it. They sat around the little fire pit Bilbo had requested to be built, reminiscent of how it once was on the road. Bilbo propped against Thorin to stop his hip aching too badly, his meaty arm around his shoulders to block out the chill on his old bones. Sometimes they where all silent, just enjoying the time together without the worries of the mountain to taint it. Other times they told tales and jokes, of the adventure shared or adventures taken alone, them nights it was usually to distract a member of a hurt they where dwelling upon. But some nights, very rarely, they would sing. Bilbo and Frodo sat silent as they listened to the dwarves low voices telling tales of the suffering and pain their people had endured in the past and the hope they had for the future and the home taken back.

Bilbo knew he would never belong in the Shire again, some days he was sad Frodo was just like him now. The Shire would be too silent for the little hobbit, he had lived his important milestones in Erebor, he wore dwarrow clothing, and unfortunately had more dwarfish manners then hobbit ones. This was the only place they would feel at home now. Bilbo knew Frodo didn't care, this was his home and the dwarfs his people.

And whenever he woke up to Thorin's smile and wandering hands he knew he didn't care ether. He would have gone mad if he had had to return back to the Shire after the battle. This is where he belonged.

 

The End

 

*~*~*

 

_A/N I started writing this about a year ago and just couldn't finish it no matter how hard I tried. It has been sat on my laptop mocking me for so long I had to finish it. The last two thousand odd words where written months apart from the beginning and is probably really shit, really sorry about that. Also sorry if its ooc, I really did try but couldn't stop writing them this way._

 


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